Pirating Life
by Daerwyn
Summary: Philantha Lestrange is not who her name suggests. Tough, vicious, and a wonderful actress at hiding what she really thinks, Antha is an expert in the art of deception and in the art of loving a certain Weasley twin named George. That's no lie when it comes to deceiving the Order and even Voldemort himself. She's become so deep in both sides that she doesn't know who to choose. RWRT
1. Warning

Due to the graphic nature of this fic, it is advised that those under the age of 18 shouldn't read.

This fic may also contain triggers, so if you are possibly triggered by extreme violence, rape, and/or self-mutilation, please do not read this fic. As a writer, I do not want to put my readers in danger of themselves. Also, if you feel as though these topics may disturb you, and you don't want to read about them, please do not read.

This fic is about a young girl, at the age of 19, put through the worst conditions in order to save another she cares for.

The re-write for this story has been posted as of 2/12/2014.


	2. Chapter 1: Foolhardy Rescue

The beaten path was piled with dead leaves and tangles vines. The windows were shattered and shutters were broken. The chimney was pieces of brick, crumpled down the roof, to the gutter. Without cause, the walls had molded, not wanting another inhabitant. Her once beautiful roses were now burnt and crisp. The once vibrant grass now was broken and yellow. The woman standing before the ruined lot where now frozen fountains once flourished and flowed remembered it like it was yesterday.

But it wasn't yesterday. It had been years. As she flicked her wand, the home restored itself back to new and it looked better, but still disastrous. The plants were damaged far beyond repair. Her once lively living room, was now dead. As she gazed around it, pushing the door that was hanging off its hinges away, all she saw were dead people, once able to dance and laugh, now rotting six feet under in their hearts. They were as good as dead, now. She didn't even know where they were, but she could guess.

The memories of her life here came back hard, nearly unbearable to remember.

"What was this place?" her traveling companion asked. Philantha glanced towards him, her hand stopping on the burnt remains of the sofa. They had scorched this place, as well, destroying any last chance at revival. She could try her best.

"This is the Burrow," she said softly, sadly, as she gazed at the ceiling, seeing nothing but the sunlight poke through. "Don't you remember, George?"

"But..." He seemed to swallow this and paled. He rushed towards the fireplace, hoping to find a note on the matlepiece, but there was none. "Where are they?"

"I don't know," Philantha admitted quietly. "Not for sure, anyway."

He gazed at her, not seeming to comprehend, anyway. "What do you know?"

"There was a... a Death Eater I came across a few weeks ago," Antha admitted, biting her lip. "They may have spoken about how they captured a few gingers..."

"They have Mum?" George demanded. "Fred? We need to find them-"

She grabbed his arm as he rushed out into the crisp yard. She shook her head immediately, "George, we don't know _where_ they are. They can be anywhere!"

"You heard them talking! Did they say a place?"

Antha hesitated, "They did."

"Then we can go-"

"And what? Walk into a Death Eater trap? Are you insane? We'd get ourselves killed. We can't do that..." Antha let out a breath in frustration as he seemed past reasoning. "Look, can you promise me something?"

"What do you want me to promise? I'm getting them back-"

"No, you're not," she said forcefully, clutching his wrist painfully. She stared at George, him looking the exact same as his brother, just with one missing ear. George was always the more handsome twin – holey or not. "You're going to go to Headquarters. Wait there for me. I'm going to see how much I can find out about where they are keeping them-"

"And do what? Get caught? I'm going with you-"

"Trust me?" she murmured, stepping closer so they were only a few feet apart. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she stared up at him, waiting for him to cave. He hardly ever caved, but he was faltering right as she stared at him. The longer she looked, the more he gave in. "Please, George?"

"I'm not going to let you get killed-"

"I won't be caught," Antha promised. "Okay? I'll come right back to you."

He held her eyes with his light blue gaze, nodding slowly. "I expect you for dinner. I believe I promised you a meal of shephard's pie and-"

Antha giggled, glancing up at him with sparkling eyes. She knew dinner was a very small possibility if she was ever to get her friends and almost family free. She'd die in the process, if anything. She cut him off with a quick peck to his lips, rendering him speechless. The mood turned somber as she stepped back, a small, sad smile now resting on her face. "I've always wanted to know what we'd be like," she whispered towards him before letting go of his wrist and apparating with a sharp, distinct crack.

She landed in a graveyard, a chill flowing down her spine as she waded through the thick fog. Tombstones, dark as night, protruded from the ground all around her, almost as eerie as the abandoned home on the hill. She walked carefully towards the iron gates, her wand clenched in her hand. She waited in the mist as she transfigured her clothing to black robes, drawing a black cloak into her eyes. Philantha pushed the gates open, her paces strong and confident as she strode up the path. But she didn't raise her head.

If anyone noticed her, this would be ruined. She didn't even know if she'd make it past the foyer, but she had to try. An elf greeted her there, looking timid and afraid of punishment, but it didn't back away from her.

"May I take your cloak, Miss?" it asked in a squeaky voice.

"Tell the Dark Lord that I am expecting a meeting with him in the library," Antha said shortly.

"Yes, Miss," the elf gasped. "And your name?"

"Bellatrix, you insolent fool," she hissed for good measure. It popped away and Antha knew she had very little time before the Dark Lord would notice something amiss.

Antha reached the kitchens and slipped passed the elves, her fingers grazing the wooden door that led to the quickest path to the dungeons. All these years, she still remembered. She slipped through, her eyes making sure none were near, and then she sprinted down the hall to where the cells were.

Not a single sound was emitted from the barred cages that contained her family. Antha almost expected them to be empty, but as she clutched a single iron bar in her hand, her wand at the lock to unlock it, she saw lumpy figures under blankets stir. It was unbearably cold down here, drafty, and wet feeling. The musty air didn't do anything more than give her a headache.

"What do you want now?"

Antha kept quiet, opening the door and reaching for the first person. She didn't mean to be so rough, but the person – Arthur – rose quickly and nearly ran into the wall as he stayed in the hall.

"What are you doing to us-?"

Antha dropped her hood, a distasteful smile on her lips. "Busting you out. Come on-"

"Antha?" Molly gasped from her position on the floor.

Antha offered a hand, helping the woman up. "Who else is here? Do you know?"

Arthur shook his head. "Just us. They raided the Burrow the day of Bill and Fleur's wedding. The boys got away just in time. Ginny's with Fred..."

"George is fine," Antha answered. "We have time for this later. I need to get you to the graveyard..." She hadn't thought this far into the plan. She glanced around carefully, drawing her hood up once more before waving her wand around the two Weasley parents. They turned invisible. "You are to stay as quiet as possible. They cannot see you, but they can hear you. Shoes off, we don't want them to clap against the marble. . ." Antha considered using an elf to apparate them out, but it would alert the other elves and she wouldn't have time to get out herself. "Follow me, quickly. We haven't much time."

She heard their breathing as she returned to the kitchen. The elves gave her suspicious looks and she snarled at them as she kept the door open for longer than necessary. "I expect cucumber sandwiches, you little brats!" she said viciously. "I want Romanian tea as well, you understand? A drop English and you will be freed!"

They cowered, nodding and rushing to do as she commanded. "Yes, Miss!"

"And I want them in the library in five minutes," Antha continued. She stormed to the other end of the door, rounding on the elves again as the door remained a little open for the two Weasley parents to slip through. "Understood?"

"Understood, miss!" They squeaked, fearfully.

"Good."

Philantha pushed her way out of the kitchen, a breath leaving her in relief. This would now be the easy part. It was pretty much a straight shot to the foyer.

"Close?" she whispered under her breath.

Two hands gently touched her own arm, in confirmation. They were safe.

"And where do you think you're going?"

Antha gasped, spinning around in surprise to see the dark, silky robes of the man she had been desperate to ignore. Her cloak slipped as she looked up and her identity was revealed. If he was surprised, he didn't show it. "I was told we'd meet in the library-" she tried to remain in her part-

"You are not Bellatrix Lestrange. So, Philantha, what are you doing here?"

Antha panicked. What could she say? Rescuing her surrogate parents? That wouldn't help her situation in the slightest. "I missed this place?" she tried.

That didn't help her either. He stalked forward, grabbing her arm and wrenching it into his side as he stared into her eyes. His evil aura seemed to make her nearly gag, the scent of darkness overpowering. It was heavy and so herbal that it made her eyes water. "What's your back up plan when I don't believe that? Hmm?"

He knew her too well. "I was..." she faltered, lowering her eyes. "I was rescuing the prisoners... But I couldn't find them... So I was trying to leave before one of your hell-hounds got whiff of me and decided to chew me to pieces-"

"Your humor can't help you."

"Hardly humor when it's true," Philantha retorted sharply. "Let go of me this instant. I'm not hurting a single hair on your head."

He didn't find this amusing either. His shiny head reflected in the torch light as he seemed to step impossibly closer. A part of her wondered where the Weasley parents were, but another part of her was more concerned with the preservation bit of her life.

"You're so funny, Antha," he said dryly, his fingers gripping her wrist even tighter. "And I know you found the prisoners. Elves are really quite useful."

She swallowed, "I think it's best I leave-"

"I think not-"

She wrenched her hand from his grip and stepped back. "You always seem to be telling me what to do," she spat. "I'm the Dark Lord. All high and mighty over everyone," she mocked, her tone no bit as light as before.

She continued stepping back, her grip on her wand tight as her free hand felt behind her for Molly or Arthur. Two very familiar hands grabbed her and she stared at the Dark Lord as he tried to advance. "The funny thing is, love will always be something you don't understand. My family means more to me than anything in the world-"

"Family?" he sneered. "I'd be in that category, my dear Antha-"

"On three," she murmured. She stepped back once more and could see the foyer just a few feet from them. She could fight him off, but they didn't have their wands. They couldn't leave. "Three," she said as soon as they got into the foyer doorway. She blasted the door open and felt the hands leave her as they rushed outside. The Dark Lord sent nasty curses, which she deflected, falling back onto the front steps, hastilly climbing down. She only made it a few steps before Arthur shouted.

"We need to leave, now!"

And Antha did the only thing she could. She spun out of the way of the spells being thrown at her and tossed her wand in the direction of the voice. She couldn't apparate two people at once. But they could apparate each other. "The safe house," she ordered.

"Come with us-"

In her moment of distraction, she was hit with a stinging hex that caused her shoulder to sting painfully. "Go," she said forcefully. A crack sounded immediately and when the hand grabbed her injured shoulder, she knew why. The Dark Lord had arrived.

"That was very bad, my dear."

"The Gryffindor thing to do," she shrugged. He was beyond pissed at this point. Antha didn't blame him. It had been her goal to piss him off. He was easier to predict when he was pissed – torture or kill were his only two options. She sincerely hoped she'd be given the latter. She didn't know if she could do torture.

An apparation behind her made her stiffen.

"Ah, Antonin. I'm so glad you could join us. Won't you take our newest prisoner to the dungeons?" the Dark Lord smiled thinly, his eyes never wavering from her own. "She wants to be back home, she might as well start where it all began."

She was grabbed roughly, Antonin Dolohov's breath in her ear as she lowered her eyes to the ground. "How'd she happen upon our land, my Lord?"

"That is none of your business, Dolohov."

Antha swallowed, knowing then that he was extremely pissed. He wasn't going to brag about it at all. No, he was going to make sure she suffered.

She was thrown into the very cell she had sprung free and Dolohov seemed to notice the lack of prisoners. He sent out an alert to the Death Eaters, slamming the cell shut.

There was silence for a moment, and she honestly thought she was the only one down there. Rats screeching told her she wasn't the only mammal, but she certainly was the only human.

"So, they've gotten you, too?" a dreamy voice sounded from further down the way. Antha glanced up at the sudden voice, finding her cellmate – if you could call it that – sat in the cell across from her, giving her a look that clearly conveyed her lunacy.

"Luna," Antha greeted. She didn't really know the girl. She was three years below herself, after all, in Ginny's year, and was a 'Claw. The girl was also a little odd, but horribly picked on. She probably was very kind. Antha decided to make a new friend in her humble abode. "Yes, they have. How did they get you?"

"Daddy was in the garden when they came. I was at Hogwarts, so I'm not really sure if that's true, it's just what the Nargles told me." She gave Antha a bright, happy smile. How could she be happy? "They threatened him because of what he was posting in the _Quibbler_. They took me to make sure he doesn't keep publishing stories."

No one listened to the _Quibbler_ anyway. At least, they didn't before a few years ago. Once they published the interview with Harry, everything changed for them. It was the go-to magazine for the truth, despite its harpies and nixies that were blabbed about inside. Antha, herself, hadn't much time for the publication, but the Weasleys loved it dearly.

"You live just down the way from the Burrow, don't you?" Antha asked. "Over the hill?"

"Yes, I'm quite surprised you remember."

"Hard not to," she commented. Antha picked at her black robes, wishing they had let her transfigure her clothing back. Of course not. "Have you ever finished your mural?"

"Oh, yes, last summer actually."

Antha quite liked this talk. It was something other than why they got captured. "What's it of? You never told me."

"My friends," Luna smiled dreamily. To be completely honest with herself, Antha believed the poor girl to be on drugs the entirety of her school year, because of how … odd she acted. "How did you get captured, Philantha?"

"I came here willingly to get the Weasleys back," Antha shrugged lightly. Her fingers pressed into her cloak before she touched the stone ground. The rough and jagged edges were much like a cave, though she knew it was from the centuries of wear and tear that had come with the property. How old was this home? She had no idea, personally.

It was just old.

"You don't need to prove your loyalty to the Order," Luna said suddenly, her dreamy voice more serious than before. "They accept you already, but fear what you can do. You are stronger than any of them and you know more than even Dumbledore does. They love you. And you love that boy-"

"What are you talking about?" Antha laughed bitterly, hoping no one was overhearing their conversation. That was the last thing they needed. "There is no boy."

"Why you wish to deny your love for him, the doxies won't tell me," she sighed, looking forlorn.

Antha ignored the girl from that moment on, wishing for nothing more than to be able to run off before she was told to be held down and tortured. He was coming soon.

The light fading from the single window she had at the top of her cell told her that it was turning to night. George will be furious when he knew what she had done. She wasn't heading back to him for dinner, like she promised. She wasn't going far from this place.

The cell door opened as she began to drift to sleep and she was jerked harshly. "We're heading out, girl," Dolohov's voice spat. "New location."

"Lovely," Antha muttered. The sickening feeling of apparation told her what she had been dreading. The house had no apparation spells on it. She could have apparated the Weasley's from this very spot and she wouldn't have gotten captured. Well, she was hardly captured. She just resisted in the beginning, until Dolohov came.

The white manor was one she recognized much more than the others she had ever been to. She saw Luna be pushed ahead of her, but the smile never left the girl's face as she was sent sprawling to the ground.

"Take the blonde to the dungeons with the Mudblood," a harsh voice spat. "Leave Philantha up here... Someone's been naughty."

Antha was deposited in the middle of a crowd in the ballroom. She knew that this would be the moment her fate was decided. The Dark Lord drew to a few feet from her and she stared up at him, her own height much shorter than his own, but still keeping herself somewhat dignifyable. He slashed his wand at her and she fell to her knees with the obedient voice in her head, begging her to do so. Imperio. Of course.

The spell was released just as quickly as it came, but Antha did not move. She spotted Narcissa, Lucius, and Draco standing in the distance, Bellatrix besides them, her eyes glinting maliciously. She always seemed to get off on the torture, her own blood or not. A billowing cloak entered the ballroom last and Severus was standing besides the Dark Lord, but feet back, as though he wanted nothing to do with the moment. As long as Antha didn't beg Severus for help, he'd be safe.


	3. Chapter 2: Lying in the Face of Death

The Dark Lord stared at Antha for a few moments, his eyes watching as she stared back into his bright red orbs. She stared at him, waiting for the torture. As he straightened, he glanced at his Death Eaters. "My fellow Death Eaters, it has been awhile since we've seen this face, has it not?"

"Traitor!" people hissed at her. "How dare you!?"

"She's been away on a mission of her own," the Dark Lord continued. "She very nearly succeeded..." Antha kept her face void of emotion, but she knew that he was lying. Lying to save her ass.

"My Lord?" Bellatrix asked, confused.

"She's been tracking Potter for the last year through the forests, doing a better job than my Snatchers... But, he slips through her clutches every time."

Antha bowed her head, "Forgive me, my Lord. The time limit you gave me was-"

If he was going to make this lie, she was going to have some say. "Six months. It's a shame... Tell me, how close did you get? Tell us all."

"Feet, my Lord," Antha admitted, though it was far from the truth. Potter was as slippery as Nagini and twice the better hider. She sincerely hoped he stayed hiden.

"Feet!" The Dark Lord cried. "All for what? To let him get away."

"Forgive me," Antha murmured, wincing as he whipped his wand from his robes. The pain she expected never came.

"Bellatrix," the Dark Lord said slowly. "Perhaps you can punish your daughter properly?" Bellatrix grinned wickedly and let out a loud laugh as she sauntered forward, shoving Antha's shoulder with much more force than the girl was able to brace herself for. She went sprawling backwards on the marble floor of the ballroom, her mother hovering atop her with a wild look in her eyes. A dagger was pressed to Antha's throat, silencing any statement that would have ever been uttered in her moment of surprise.

"What is your name?" Bellatrix hissed.

"You know my name, mother," Antha answered calmly, her eyes only darting a second to the blade, before looking up into the black eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"What happened to the two Weasley prisoners?" Bellatrix hissed. "Did you remove them?"

"No," Antha spat. The only one that knew she was lying was the Dark Lord, and he wouldn't say anything for fear of rebutting his statement about her working for him the entire time she was away.

The blade cut across the hollow of Antha's neck, not deep enough to end her life, but deep enough to cause pain. Something was laced in the dagger's edge that made it sting, like fire was coursing through her veins. As Bellatrix carved something into Antha's neck – she almost hoped it would be something pretty that she wouldn't have to explain to anyone she saw – but she knew that it wouldn't be. It'd be ugly, vile, and something that she couldn't hide.

A sob escaped Antha's lips as the older woman pushed her hand against Antha's wound. "Who took them?"

"I don't know," Antha insisted. "I don't-"

She dug her fingers into the wound, making them hurt even more and Antha refused to scream, instead writing under her mother's grip as the dagger moved to a new location – Antha's cheek.

"Where does the Order reside?"

"_Fidelis_! I can't say. I wouldn't be able to," Antha rushed out as the blade pressed against her unblemished flesh. "I-"

The dagger made a deep incision on Antha's cheek, causing the girl's words to cut off into a cry of pain, her head turning away from the blade. Bellatrix Lestrange's bloody hand gripped Antha's chin, keeping her still. "Don't want to make an ugly incision, do we? Want you to be right and pretty!"

As Philantha cried out again, her mother was inches from her face once more, staring into the girls eyes. "Tell us who took the Weasley swine!"

"I don't know!"

"Tell us where Potter is!"

"On the run," Philantha gasped. "Please, I don't bloody know anything-"

She didn't believe the writhing young girl for one second. She brought the blade to Antha's cheek once more, writing something as well, in that very location. Antha had tears in her eyes, but blinked so they'd go away. They didn't. They fell down her cheeks, mixing with the blood, to create a more soothing sting.

"Now, now," Bellatrix murmured, her lips kissing the gash. "Be good for mummy. We don't want your little friend in the dungeons to get hurt do we?"

Antha whimpered as Bellatrix moved away once more, her dagger moving to Antha's arms and the tortured girl turned her head away form her mother, swallowing as she did her best to keep still. She didn't suceed. Her rapidly blinking eyes found the very bare feet that had put her in this position.

She didn't move her eyes from the Dark Lord's feet, her breath steadily rising and falling as her mother did her work along the teen's arms. They were immaculantly clean and white, not a single imperfection. She didn't look any higher, as she didn't want to see his face. She didn't want to see any of their faces. The black boots and heels all around her were just background images, background noise to the cheers to egg her mother on.

She could feel the blood starting to pool beneath her, soaking her clothing and the white marble floor. A brief thought wondered if it'd ever come out. She didn't think so. The elves had worked greater miracles, however.

"Bellatrix," the Dark Lord said suddenly. The woman instantly paused in her assault, the dagger still embedded into the girls flesh. "Put your basilisk dagger away." The dagger removed itself and Antha let out another breath, this time in relief, before slowly moved into a sitting position, curling on her side and then getting onto her knees to kneel before the Dark Lord once more.

It hurt unbearably so.

"Dolohov, would you like to have a go?" the Dark Lord inquired.

"I'd love that very much, my Lord," the Russian man stated ecstatically, surging forward in the crowd.

A bag was dropped in front of Antha and her fingers trembled – not from the blood loss, but from the fear. "Chose which weapon you'd like, my dear."

Antha hesitated, knowing nothing good was in the bag from when she was younger. She had been foolish, her mother brainwashing her into thinking that being a Death Eater was a beautiful honor. It was nothing but a curse. And the items contained in the leather satchel were nothing more than blood soaked into the earth from the enemies winning battles.

Evil.

Her fingers grasped the leather satchel and she opened it, selecting the least painful of the items inside. "The whip, my dear?" the Dark Lord asked. "You are sure?"

"I'm sure," Antha responded in what she hoped was a strong voice. She believed she succeeded, as the whip was yanked from her hands by her new assailant. Pain exploded across her face from just saying the simple words, the wounds no longer numb off of adrenaline.

"Draco, Lucius, hold the girl up."

Antha slowly got to her feet, stumbling forward a step as her head swam, but she caught herself, her hair falling into the wound on her cheek and making it sting painfully. She clenched her jaw and took a deep breath through her nose as she straightened. Her wrists and shoulders were gripped on either side as she was held, Dolohov circling behind her. Her back was never to be turned to the Dark Lord. It was to show him that she gave up, that she was a traitor. He couldn't have that reason to kill her, especially in front of his Death Eaters. Any other reason, but that.

Antha cried out as Lucius forced her onto her knees, his hand gripping her hair tightly to enforce the action. She might as well had stayed there in the first place. Antha's arms held on either side, throbbing in pain, she could move no where.

The back of her shirt was ripped. The black silk fabric ripping along the seams of the single line. Her near-bare back was exposed to all those behind her, perfectly smooth, and the black lace of her bra the only thing not showing her skin.

There was no warning as the whip came crashing down, and a silent cry escaped her lips. She thought she would have screamed, if she had enough energy left in her to do so. Another crack and then the whip tore at her skin further.

The crashing continued onto her back, the two Malfoy men holding her as still as they could, as she slowly weakened into a mess of blood and defeat.

"Who took the Weasleys?"

She could have said herself, ended it all there. She could have said she released the Weasley parents and ended her torture – as they would surely kill her – but she didn't. "I don't know," she said in a whisper. "I don't know..."

"She's lying!" Bellatrix cried.

"Bellatrix, I'll be the one judging whether or not she's telling the truth," the Dark Lord spat. Antha could no longer tell if the whip was hitting her back anymore. The pain was thoroughly in every part of her limbs already. He took a step towards the wounded girl, gazing at her with something akin to pride. Pride for being so resistant in so much torture. "After all this, you're still loyal."

"Of course, my Lord," Antha whispered, her head bowed as she no longer had the strength to keep it up. "How could I not be?"

"After all of this... you still say that you have no idea."

"I don't," Antha answered simply. They both knew it was a lie, but in his small little test, apparently, she passed.

"That'll be enough, Dolohov," the Dark Lord stated. Her limbs were dropped and she nearly fell forward onto the Dark Lord's robes, but her hands slammed down into the marble, holding her up. A small cry fell from her lips and she squeezed her eyes shut, taking shaky deep breaths. The pain wouldn't go away.

"My Lord, perhaps a healer should look at some of these wounds-" Narcissa began to speak, but there was a flourish of robes, silencing her.

"Draco, take her to the dungeons," the Dark Lord hissed. "We'll finish with her later." Antha was grabbed by her forearm and she cried out once more, unable to get to her feet. Draco forced her up, though his grip was gentle, and she swayed dangerously. Her eyes felt heavy, like she was tired, and she stumbled a few steps. Draco's arm caught her once more. "Don't heal her, Draco. I believe she'll be fine."

She was nearly dragged through the manor, to the dungeons that Luna Lovegood was being kept in. Perhaps they'd be in the same cell. She could only hope for some company. "What did you do to earn this?"

"Pissed him off, what else?" she murmured her answer. She nearly passed out as they turned, but he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Merlin, how bad is it?"

"It's pretty bad."

She swallowed. "The carvings will never come off, will they?"

"No."

Her throat felt like she had swallowed an entire bowl of Mrs. Weasley's pudding all at once. Clogged with an emotion of despair. Where in the Burrow it would have been despair for not having a chance to eat all the pudding in one sitting, here it was despair for having to live with the injuries for the rest of her life.

"I thought not," Antha admitted quietly.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered to her as he opened a door and thrust the girl inside. She stumbled, landing on the ground and skinning her knees. He could have been at least a small bit gentle. As the lights in the dungeon lit, the door slammed shut.

"The wackspurts are clouding his judgement," Luna's voice drifted over the injured girl. "They're starting to get in your brain as well."

"Luna, I need you to be honest with me. Can you do that?"

"Of course, you want to know what the scars say," Luna answered the questions Antha was about to ask. "Well, which would you like to know about first?"

"My neck," Antha answered after a few breaths. She slowly sank down onto her bum, careful not to touch the ground with any injured part of her body. As she turned herself to be in better light, Luna pulled the black hair from the wound and didn't apologize as Antha winced.

"Well, this one says Traitor."

It had taken Bellatrix Lestrange the most time, so it seemed only fitting she made it the most noticeable of places. "And my cheek?" Antha asked. "My arms?"

"Your cheek is very difficult to read, but I believe it says fifth."

"That makes no sense," Antha admitted quietly.

"Oh, that's an l!" Luna smiled brightly, giggling. "Filth."

How could she be so happy? Antha was in pure agony and this ditsy 'Claw was having a blast! Antha hated the girl for being so carefree, so innocent. She hated her for being happy. Happy in the darkest of times.

"My arms?" Antha pressed.

"Betrayer and... Death Eater."

Basilisk venom never came out of wounds. It always scarred, in some degree, and the damage caused, how deep the wound was, all made it either more prominent or painful. In Antha's case, she'd heal and have the scars forever.

"Wonderful," Antha murmured, though she felt sick to her stomach. How could... how could it get this bad? How could the Dark Lord have allowed this? She thought she meant at least... something to him. She didn't feel the same way, of course, but she hoped he wouldn't be cruel to her like he was to the others.

She rested on her side, her injured arms straight in front of her, and her neck hurting horribly, but not as bad as her back as the cool wind from the night blew against it. She didn't move though. Moving made it worse. As Luna wandered off to talk to Ollivander, who she said was further down the cell, she drifted off to sleep, or passed out. She didn't know which came first. It certainly felt like sleep.

She awoke sweating, a groan escaping her lips as she jumped from her nightmare. She felt as though she had a fever, her skin impossibly cold from the wind and sweat, but the vision before her was elegant robes and blonde hair.

Narcissa.

"The Dark Lord says I am to get you ready and healed. We'll be taking you to your bedroom now."

Antha moaned as she was helped to her feet. "I can't.. Merlin, this is-"

"I'm sorry. We'll apparate, alright?" Narcissa asked, concerned for the woman. She wasn't given a choice as the apparation was immediate. A soft bed was under Antha's body as she was deposited not a second later in her old bedroom – one of the many in the manor that was given to frequent guests. Being a resident for years, it was no surprise that it was always her own and in the main wing. Stuffed animals from when she was a baby littered the chests and corners, books from her schooling, and letters from her short summers intermingled.

"Why are you healing me? I thought he wanted me dead..."

"The Dark Lord is punishing Bellatrix Lestrange as we speak," Narcissa answered carefully, healing the wounds on the girl's back until they were just thin scars that were hardly noticeable, before she moved onto the girl's arms. "He did not realize the extent of your damage until he examined you last night. You had an infection and you still have one, but we'll deal with that in a few moments."

"He came to the dungeons and looked me over?" Antha asked, surprised. "Why?"

"You were screaming in your sleep," she said quietly, her wand mending her neck wound next. "We hardly slept, it was so loud. The Dark Lord gave you a dreamless sleep potion, but you were so out of it. The elves kept you alive for most of the night. We couldn't move you, otherwise we would. The extent of your damage was much too severe to apparate with. The elves stopped the bleeding just this morning. I've been with you since, waiting for you to wake."

"Thank you," Antha murmured. Her cheek wound healed, she felt at ease. Hardly any pain now, just a few stings from protesting muscles. "Why was the punishment so severe?"

"He wanted to make you suffer for the years you abandoned your post," Narcissa answered. "For lying straight to his face. For... well, for doing all you did when you left the first time."

Antha winced, "He must have been angry."

"He is. Furious, even. I've never seen him so angry. I know you weren't spying on Potter for him... He just doesn't want to kill you. You still have that on your side."

"It didn't seem like enough last night," Antha murmured.

"He's furious with your mother, as well, for letting Potter escape."

Antha choked on her tongue, "What!?"

"Potter showed up around midnight. Snatchers captured him. The Dark Lord was too busy trying to find the Weasleys that he wasn't here. Lucius, Draco, Bella, and I were all in charge of making sure they were the right people. Potter, his Mudblood, and Weasley."

"The Trio were all here and they got away?"

"An elf," Narcissa answered. "Dobby. He used to work here, before. He took the other prisoners away and then got the Trio out. The Dark Lord isn't happy. I recommend not running into him in the mean time, nor being any bit rebellious. He has a prisoner. A Weasley."

"How?" Antha breathed, fear seizing her heart. Narcissa noticed as she stood, walking toward the girl's wardrobe, where the most elegant of gowns were hung, and the ugliest of Muggle clothing, to Narcissa's standards, were placed.

"He invaded the Manor shortly after Potter left. We believe he was trying to find Potter, to rescue him. He came at the wrong time, just as the Dark Lord arrived. After the Dark Lord tortured us, he threw the boy into the dungeons with you, and then tortured Bellatrix. But... when you awoke, he was taken back to the Dark Lord, for questioning. He didn't leave your side."

Antha took the dress offered to her and moved toward her conjoined bathroom, the elves already starting her a bath. She slipped in the warm liquid, Narcissa remaining just outside the door so they could continue their conversation. "I don't understand."

"You're to be ready for a formal meeting," Narcissa spoke. "For a Weasley brother. I don't know which one it is. I've been with you-"

"Who? Ron? Percy? Charlie-"

"A twin."

Antha hurried in the bath, despite her muscles, and changed quickly as she had Narcissa use her wand to dry the woman off.

"Where is your wand?" Narcissa asked curiously.

"Disappeared, no idea."

Antha returned to the bathroom, her eyes welling up with tears as she made the mistake of checking in the mirror. The silver dress complimented her well, but it showed off every one of her scars, making her wince. They were an angry red, of a fresh scar, and Antha knew that no matter where she went, people would see them. They weren't as discreet as she had originally thought. They were large letters down her arms, long letters on her chest, and stretched letters on her cheek, all taking up as much skin as possible.

"Antha?" Narcissa asked gently from the bathroom door. "Let's go to the ballroom, dear."

Antha nodded slowly, tearing her eyes from the mirror and slipping on some silver flats, before quickly following the older woman out the door. The floor length skirt was a single modesty she was given. The bust was as revealing as possible and there were no straps, let alone sleeves.

Her mind raced with the possibility of who it was. Fred or George? Either way... she'd have to protect him.

The crowd in the ballroom was much like the one she had for her own torture, but they departed as she entered and she was given clear walkway to the center, as if she had never left. Her heart dropped as she saw the single eared man sitting in the middle of the floor, shaking from torture and his eyes were unfocused.

The Dark Lord's wand was pointed at him and he let out a single scream of pain before he was released from the spell.

"No," Antha murmured, stepping forward quickly before she was pulled back. She tried to shake out of Lucius's tight grasp, but he didn't loosen his hold. "Stop, please-"

The Dark Lord's lip curled as he looked up towards the teenager that had been in the same position not even a day before. "My dear, how lovely of you to join us. Don't you look divine?"

Antha's eyes never left George, but she allowed herself to curtsey slightly. "My Lord," Antha spoke simply.

"Come," the Dark Lord ordered and Antha was released. Her heels clipped against the silent ballroom's floor as every Death Eater held their breath. "Look who's back with us! My dear Death Eaters, look who has stayed loyal no matter how much she's been punished."

Antha rested beside the Dark Lord, staring at George with fear clenching her heart. One small movement, and fear would destroy her. Her heart would be nothing but ash and George would be nothing but a corpse to be buried with the other prisoners.

George gave a choked sob as another dose of the cruciatus hit him.

"My dear, you look much better," the Dark Lord spoke, his hand that wasn't holding the spell on George, caressing her blemished cheek. Antha could do nothing. She had no wand, no means of fighting back. She swallowed.

"Yes, well, I'm not dying, my Lord. That is always a positive factor."

"Indeed." The spell was released. "Antha, my dear, what does George Weasley know about the Order?" There was a pause as Antha didn't answer. George's tortured ended for just a moment and he stared at the ground, heaving large breaths of air. The sound hurt. "Would you like to question him?" Antha froze, swallowing tightly in her throat. Question him how? She didn't want to ask.


	4. Chapter 3: Saving Face

"George is hardly an active member of the Order," Antha answered slowly, after a moment of hesitation. "He's perhaps attended... Five of the meetings I had seen. That does not mean, however, he is unimportant." Antha tried to word her defense for the ginger delicately. He had to seem important enough to live, but not important enough to keep here. "Perhaps, my Lord, we let him go. Wipe his memory of this encounter."

"Your defense of him intrigues me," the Dark Lord murmured to her, his eyes meeting hers, sparkling in amusement. "Don't tell me you've grown to care for the boy."

"Of course not, my Lord," Antha remarked. His pale lips twitched as he seemed to catch her lie. She let out an even breath, her eyes darting back to the quaking boy painfully. She almost winced. "I fear keeping him would do nothing more than slow us down, however. I propose you let him go."

"And why should I?" the Dark Lord pressed, his eyes glinting maliciously. Antha didn't falter. Her eyes returned back to his and she said quietly so the others couldn't overhear her over George's labored breathing.

"He's hurt," Antha bargained. She stiffened her jaw as her eyes teared up and she bowed her head quickly, so he wouldn't see. "I … I'll be punished in his place. I ask you let him go. I beg of you, my Lord."

"Assess his wounds and tell me what's so life threatening," the Dark Lord spoke, louder than she, and a murmur rang through the crowd. Antha obeyed, walking towards the injured man and she gently touched George's face. The twin flinched violently, spitting at her feet. "Cruci-"

"Wait," Antha interrupted, halting the spell from leaving a furious Dark Lord's lips. She pulled her skirt up so that it wouldn't get dirty, and knelt down beside George. His face was bloody, as though he had been roughed up before she arrived. She gripped both of his cheeks between her hands and forced him to look at her. "What do you wish for me to find?"

"Whatever you can."

Antha swallowed, nodding, and wiped some of his wet hair from his eyes. He had been sweating, as a result of the spells cast on him, and his eyes finally focused on her, taking a while to adjust. He seemed surprised to see her, but he relaxed in her grip and his eyes didn't waver from her own.

She felt tears build up in her own eyes. "Everything's going to be fine." She blinked once, and a tear escaped. "I promise." But it wasn't a promise she could make. "My Lord?"

"My dear?"

"I require a wand to do legimency," Antha stated. "That is what you wanted, isn't it, my Lord?"

There was a pause and she glanced towards the Dark Lord, to see him scanning the Death Eaters. As she watched him, George's hands lifted, his hands shaking, but grasped her wrists. "Why are you dressed up?" he murmured, confused. Even his voice was trembling, like his body. "You don't look bad... and you're talking like-"

"You know who my mother is," Antha answered simply, cutting him off without glancing at him. If she had, she might have seen the briefest spasm of distrust.

"Antha, stand." Antha did so immediately, smoothing out her skirt with the back of her hands, as her palms were covered in her almost love's blood. She faced the Dark Lord and he stared at her a moment. "Tell me, whose wand do you wish?"

He was serious. He hardly ever was anything but. She gazed around the crowd, but smirked as she saw the face of the man that was responsible for putting her in the rat infested dungeons. "I believe Dolohov's will do beautifully, my Lord."

"Wonderful. Dolohov?"

"My Lord-"

"Now." He didn't question the Dark Lord again, relinquishing his wand. "I'd like to talk about a few things, first."

"A few things, my Lord?" Antha repeated, confused. Her grip on Dolohov's wand was her lifesaver. This wand would do everything she needed to make a plan – any plan she could come up with in that moment – work.

"I recall a certain someone four years ago that insisted upon spying on the Order," the Dark Lord began, walking slowly around the outer edge of the clearing in Death Eaters. "Do you recall this event?"

"I do, my Lord," Antha answered, swallowing as she turned to keep her front facing him. She didn't know what this had to do with anything.

"And do you remember that persons specialty? Much like her mother's." Antha nodded her confirmation. "Are you still as adept in the cruciatus?"

"I have been out of practice, my Lord," Antha answered simply, her heart clenching as she glanced quickly at George. "I don't-"

"Why don't we test it out, hmm? On dear George Weasley." The Dark Lord paused directly behind George. "Antha?"

Antha's new thin wand aimed itself at George, and it trembled only slightly, before she straightened her arm and set her jaw. She had to be strong. These people would kill her if she wasn't. She didn't know if she could say the curse, though. It was on the tip of her tongue. The vowels formed and ready to be uttered, but she couldn't.

"Any day, my dear."

"My Lord," Antha said instead of the spell. "I believe that perhaps someone else should have a go. Such an honor should not go to me-"

"Bellatrix, do the cruciatus before I grow bored. I do not want him too damaged. I'm trying to figure out what to do with him still." George's eyes widened as Antha was grabbed by the arm, Dolohov forcing her to watch as Bellatrix cast the spell. Dolohov held Antha tight, as she struggled to stop from being under the choke hold as George screamed in pain.

It hurt her ears, being so close to him, and feeling the pain he had to have felt. She knew exactly what it was like, to be at the mercy of the person you hated the most. To have your insides burning and knowing you'd be given no mercy at all. It wasn't a fun feeling.

As Voldemort stared at Antha, he saw tears build in her eyes as the single-eared man writhed in pain. The Death Eaters laughed manically at his pain, knowing they were not the ones at the end of it. They were encouraging Bellatrix to kill him, disobey the Dark Lord's wishes.

"Bella, I said make him suffer. Not make him cry."

Antha knew George felt no shame. How could he? He was in extreme pain, and the Weasley twins were anything but ashamed of themselves or their actions. Antha relaxed in Dolohov's grip as Bellatrix flashed her eyes angrily at the Dark Lord. "My Lord-"

"Antha, kill the boy-"

She whipped her head to face the Dark Lord, her eyes wide. "My Lord-" George gasped for breath, his lungs no doubt over exerted from his screaming. His noise filled the silence as Antha stopped herself from speaking. The Dark Lord didn't tolerate disobedience. "Perhaps we could keep him a while longer. Until he talks about where Potter's gone?"

The Dark Lord mulled this over. "You're very keen on protecting this one."

"He seems to have potential to me, my Lord," Antha recovered, shooting Dolohov a nasty glare as she moved from his grip. "Don't touch me again," she spat at the Russian. "My Lord, I simply think he's not telling us something, but is too weak to properly think."

"And what gives you that assumption?"

"I was told you've been torturing him all day."

He seemed to remember. Antha clutched Dolohov's wand tightly, wondering how long it'd take her to get to George and apparate away. The Dark Lord's eyes warned her that she shouldn't try it. He always knew what she was thinking.

"Take him to the dungeons, Antha. I have an idea for him."

Antha wondered if this was another test. As she stepped towards George, her hand grasping his elbow, she found the Dark Lord seemed to lose interest in the only Order members there. The crowd parted as Antha took steps towards the long, dark hall that led to the dungeons.

"Antha-"

"Shut up," she snapped. She immediately regretted it as he winced, and stumbled along after her. Once safely in the empty hall, she made sure no rats were around, before making him look at her. "Why are you here? I told you-"

"You never got back to headquarters. Mum and Dad told me what happened-"

"Nothing happened," she said dangerously, glancing around them. She gripped his arm tightly and pulled him along quickly. "You shouldn't have come. We all have to do what we can to keep others safe. Tell your mother to keep my wand from sight," Antha answered under her breath. "I never got them out, alright? I never helped them."

"But-"

She reached the cell door and glanced back at the hall they had come from. "I'll be back tonight to leave. I'll probably manage to steal a wand or something..." Antha looked him over. "Where's yours?"

"They took it."

"I'll find it," she answered quietly. "I'm so sorry... You aren't supposed to see me on their side. I'm on the Order, I promise. I-"

"I know you are... You wouldn't have begged for my life if you were on theirs."

Antha swallowed tightly, opening the cell door and giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead in the dark room. He was already leaning down from his aching muscles. The feat was nothing. She pulled back, her hands gripping his own. "I don't know who will come by before I do... Stay as strong as you can, alright? I really... really don't want to bury you."

She shoved him inside the dark, barely lit room, and shut the cell door. She waved Dolohov's wand to lock it and then returned back to the ballroom, ignoring her own heavy heart, weighing more with each step she took.

The Death Eaters seemed surprised she returned, but took it as a sign of loyalty. As the Dark Lord raved about how they were all stupid and easily replaceable if they let Potter escape again, the message was expressed vividly. Thankfully, she was spared from any form of torture at all. The Dark Lord kept glancing at her though, mid-tirade, and she wondered what that meant.

Death Eaters dispersed. The night grew to darkness.

The tea cup in her hand had grown cold, no longer the steaming warmth that kept her happy. The Dark Lord was across from her, not touching the tea cup she had poured for him. Her legs were tucked under her body, the dress from earlier in the day exchanged for a skirt and blouse. Her bare feet were dirty, but she didn't mind.

"When are you leaving?"

She glanced up. It was the first words they had spoken since they had first joined just a few hours before. "What do you mean?" She knew, of course.

"Weasley. When is it?"

"I haven't the foggiest," she replied, sipping the cold tea and grimacing slightly.

"Tonight?"

"'Twas the plan."

The Dark Lord stared at her with narrowed eyes, unable to express some emotion he was no doubt feeling. "What is it about him that will make you leave everything here? What is it about the Order that draws you in?"

She leaned forward in her seat, as if she were sharing a secret. His eyes sparkled at the movement, hoping for a good secret, but he was sourly disappointed as she remarked, "There's no torture."

"I already knew that."

"Then why ask?"

He growled in frustration. "What do they do instead of torture?"

She shrugged, thinking. "Reprimandings. Warnings. Overnight stays in the Auror department doing paperwork, really. No one in the Order screws up in order to get punished."

"And yet people remain loyal."

"The Dark Side is alluring," Antha admitted, frowning as she set her tea cup down on the table between them. "Attractive. Strong and honest, I suppose. It's tempting to join, but the right thing wills out – kindness. Love. You may not understand it, but people view love as a stronger bond than loyalty. Kingdoms have been torn apart because of love. The Bloody Baron killed himself because of his love for Helena Ravenclaw, or do you not remember that story?" She knew he did. "Love is the most powerful weapon of them all."

He grimaced, his eyes not wavering from her form. "Leave."

"I'm sorry?"

"Your mission is to continue watching over the Order," the Dark Lord remarked.

"But I don't have a mission-" she began, frowning.

"Precisely why you should leave before others figure that out."

She wondered why the man that had put her in the dungeons bleeding and dying was now telling her to run. "I run, you'll kill me if you catch me," she said slowly.

"Who said that?"

"Your history."

He didn't deny it. She didn't expect him to. Her eyes darted around the quaint study that had once belonged to Lucius. Now it was the Dark Lord's. When he fell, and Lucius was in Azkaban, it would be Draco's study.

"Why do you kill?" she asked him, much like his previous bold question. "Does it... help you? Do you feel better?"

"Of course I do," he murmured. He waved his wand and the steam began to sprout out of the tip of the tea pot. Warm tea once more. He repoured a cup and sipped from it daintily. "My passion in killing does not lay with the power, though that is a small part of why I kill... I kill because it makes me feel alive."

"And you feel dead when you aren't killing?" Antha pressed curiously.

"I thought I told you to leave."

"I haven't a wand," she remarked, her lips quirking up into a smile. The Dark Lord stared at the woman before him before procuring a wand with a wave of his own. Antha recognized it immediately. George Weasley's wand. The joker's wand had been given to her many times over the years – many as a result of her attempts to stop him from nearly murdering the poor first years with their products. Most recently, she had acquired it because he had charmed their tent, before they split up and searched separately for Potter, to have a see-through room that she was changing in. She hadn't been amused. She grasped it, confused. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why does the Order not torture?"

Love.

She held the wand in her hand as she moved down the dark, silent hallway. Silencing charms were placed around her, muffling her footsteps, and the creaking of doors opening. Only a single breath left her before she quickly silenced herself again.

No one was awake. No one she could hear anyway. The Death Eaters typically didn't survive in the art of being silent. They were rambunctious, often dragging out the torture, in order to show off.

So seeing Bellatrix Lestrange in the dungeons, silent and mulling something over as she leaned against a far wall – not yet seeing Philantha, was strange. Antha considered trying to slip by her, but knew she'd be dead instead. She raised George's wand, her fingers tight against the wood, and aimed it at her mother.

"Who's there-?" the woman spun around, but Antha was faster.

"Avada Kedavra."

The matriarch, only in blood, to the troubled teen crumpled to the ground, and Antha rushed forward, removing any magical signatures so they wouldn't trace it back to George, and then continued cautiously through the dungeons. She reached upon the cell she had dumped George in and opened the door softly.

He was resting against a wall, half asleep, and looking like he was desperately trying to keep his eyes open. "George," Antha hissed. He jerked awake and stood, defensive. "Let's get going."

Since there were no anti-apparation points, Antha gripped George's wrist as he approached her and apparated them both away.

They landed on the stoop of headquarters, teetering dangerously over the edge. She shoved the door open, throwing him inside, before shutting the door behind her and leaning against it.

"Bloody hell," George murmured, turning to look at her. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing," Antha insisted quietly. "We're fine. We're alive-"

"Fine? I just got tortured for six bloody hours!" George cried. "And what did they do to you?" He gestured towards her, taking an arm. "Death Eater? Look at this? They've destroyed you."

"My mother likes to have fun," Antha remarked, pulling her arm from his gentle grasp. She eyed the portrait of Walburga worriedly before she stepped closer into the home. "Where is your family?"

"They were heading to the Burrow when I left... That's how I got away with it."

"Of course," Antha smirked. She passed him his wand and touched a small knick knack on a dark table hidden in the hallway. "We should get to them."

"I'm horrid at rescuing you."

"It was a good attempt. Foolish, but good," she praised. "Don't do it again."

He let out a laugh, "Definitely not going to."

She took his arm carefully, and noticed how his hands were trembling. "The pain will pass through your system with a good rest," she told him quietly. "I'm so sorry..."

"Why?"

"I should have told you... I mean, I assumed you assumed where I was over the summers, why I didn't write you in school... I thought you knew, but... I'm so sorry." She bit her lip as she glanced down. "You were never supposed to follow me."

"I thought you were in trouble."

"I was fine."

"It sure looks like it," he stated, his hand clutching her own once more and staring at the scars on her cheek. "What the-"

She apparated them both with a crack, cutting off his sentence. They landed in the field of the Burrow, which looked much better than it had two days previous. She was in desperate need of a bed and a shower, but she led George to the door and knocked lightly.

It was pulled open and Molly's wand was pointed directly at Antha's throat. The girl halted, her chin up in fear as she stared down the end of the wood. "Well, hello to you, as well."

Molly's grip didn't falter. "The last words we spoke?"

Antha racked her brains before looking relieved, "You told me to come with you. I said go, and you left." The wand lowered and the two women stared at each other before Antha was enveloped in an embrace.

"My dear girl, where were you? I told you-"

"Damage control," Antha answered easily. She swallowed as she pulled away. "See? George is fine? I did the damage control."

"George!" Molly cried. "What in the world-" She hugged her son fiercely, rocking from side to side with him in her arms. And then she pulled the pair into the house. "Oh, Antha, what happened to you? Your face is all-"

"It's not as bad as it looks."

"I saw you in the dungeons," George interrupted whatever Molly was going to say. "I saw you with the screaming night terrors and the-"

"I was healed. I'm fine," Antha cut him off. She shot George a nasty glare. "Like you weren't under the cruciatus."

Molly gasped and fussed over her son more. Antha tuned out Molly's worrisome comments, noting how he was pale and shaking, and instead focused more on the people located in the living room. Ginny and Fred, Charlie and Bill, Fleur and Tonks. Lupin. Antha gave them all a weary smile, gently sitting herself down on a vacant chair. The few Order members around her avoided her gaze and she shifted uncomfortably.

"What happened?"

"Well, I'm sure Molly and Arthur told you what happened," she remarked. "I got caught, the Dark Lord made sure I learned my lesson, and then I was treated just like a fine and dandy Death Eater."

"Who did this to you?" Molly pressed suddenly, flocking to the girl's side. She brushed the dark hair from the girl's face, exposing the pink scars that were still fresh. "Merlin-"

"My mother," Antha answered shortly. She moved her hair so it was hanging in her face once more. "It's fine... They're fine."

"They look like they hurt."

"They don't," Antha insisted. They didn't, really. The muscles ached as she talked, moved her arms, swallowed, but they didn't hurt. Just the tissue healing back together.

The Burrow took not even two hours to replenish, the garden being one of the last to do away with. Antha decided to hand weed the dead brush, liking how the menial task set her mind away from the sympathies of the Weasleys. It relaxed her, the isolation. She had much of it when she was away, chasing after Potter.

"The Dark Lord tortured you?"

She jumped at the question, glancing behind her to see George kneeling beside her, picking up some brush and putting it into a plastic bag. Muggle cleaning. He seemed to like it too.

"No... Not really. He has others do his dirty work."

George frowned, glancing at the teen girl that was from the same house and year he was. "But how did you get my wand? He took it... How did you get all cleaned up and look all … like you worked for him?"

Antha winced, "I never told you-"

A breach in the wards made the alarms go off – a horrible cat screeching noise – and the two teens glanced up just in time to see a swirl of black landing in the field before them. "Never told him what, my dear?" the Dark Lord asked maliciously. "How you murdered your mother – my very best Death Eater – to save him?"

Antha swallowed, her eyes dropping to the grass her hands were waved into. George shot her an astounded look. "Antha-"

"She used to love it, you know," the Dark Lord remarked maliciously. "Loved to torture, to kill... She'd smile in this way that turned all my followers to puddles, just because she heard someone's screams. Order member?" The man laughed heartlessly. Antha didn't think he had any other laugh. "What Order can she possibly be apart of?"


	5. Chapter 4: Confrontations of More to be

Antha quickly got to her feet, her hands clutching the wand Molly had returned to her. As she stared at the Dark Lord, she took a small step back, George following quickly. "I'm more of an Order member than any of them ever could be," Antha said slowly and deliberately.

"And you truly believe that?"

"You used me," Antha spoke sharply. "I was and am nothing more than a method to get to Harry. You just kept me alive because I had information."

"On a first name basis now?" the Dark Lord drawled, his lip curling in disgust. "Harry," he mocked me. "Tell me, do you love him, too?"

"Harry is a brother I never had," Antha spat, stepping forward a measure to stand a bit in front of George. "You've always known I was friends with Harry. Always. So why does I surprise you I'm on a first name basis with him?"

"It doesn't," he remarked, his eyes darting to George a second. "Do they know? How easy it was to get you to work for me? To get you to murder and torture? You loved it, didn't you, Antha?"

Antha faltered, shaking her head, "No. No... I was imperio'd."

"It's astounding what lies you make up to protect you," the Dark Lord said viciously. "The only person that could have imperio'd you was yourself. You loved the power, the superiority. . . You loved it all."

"I hated it. Why else would I have left?" Antha spat. "Why else would I have found sanctuary in the Order?"

"How do you hide it?" the Dark Lord wondered. His eyes scanned over the scarred girl, taking in her rigid stance, ready to attack if given the chance. "The Mark?"

"I don't," Antha spoke simply. She held out her left forearm, where the words 'Death Eater' were carved into her skin. The Dark Lord smirked, glancing at the girl. That wasn't what he meant. Antha continued, "I removed it."

"And just how did you do that?"

"It wasn't pleasant," Antha remarked, lowering her wand. George grabbed her arm, trying to get the wand pointed back at the Dark Lord, but she stepped from his grasp and stood still in the middle of the garden. "First, I took a knife. I took a numbness potion and then cut it off. I went to St. Mungo's immediately following... By then the numbness potion could no longer ease the pain." She swallowed. "They magically grafted skin on my arm. The skin that I had carved off." She paused, her fingers dancing lightly against her forearm. "That process was more painful than removing."

"And why not cover it with glamours?"

"My life will not be hidden by glamours," she spoke. "If I glamour these scars I have now, I won't be me. I'll be the girl I was before mother had a go at me."

He stepped forward, and while the Order hastily stepped back, Antha stayed put. Her eyes didn't waver from his own and she clutched her wand tightly. He could touch her now. And he did. He pulled her into his grasp, like a human shield, and she was turned to face the Order.

"Tell them, or I will."

"Tell them what?' she spat. "How you're an insufferable know-it-all?"

"I believe that's Potter's girlfriend," the Dark Lord hissed.

She smirked to herself, "Oh, is this about your nose? Yes, you see. . . He had a bit of an accident when he was a child. Growing up Muggle, you know, he didn't know which wall to run into. Ran into platform 9 ½. . . Nasty bit of damage-"

He grip tightened, silencing her. "You're horribly amusing," he growled. "So you don't remember Salazar?"

"He has nothing to do with this," she said immediately, tensely stiffening in his grip.

"He has everything to do with this."

Antha disagreed. "What do you want?"

"You know what I want," he spoke calmly into her ear, but loud enough that everyone else could hear also. "Bring him back to me."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" George cried. "You're mental-"

"Not you," the Dark Lord hissed. He shoved Antha away from him and in a fit of rage, she spun around, her hand flying and hitting him across the cheek. She meant to do it, of course, but that didn't stop her heart from freezing in fear and she faltered back a step, her wand still tight within her fingers. "Wrong move, my dear." He flicked his wand faster than she could retaliate and the spell came hurtling towards her. "Crucio!"

The pain was a thousand knives over, tearing at her flesh and ripping her apart from the inside. She didn't scream, but she sank to her knees, her wand leaving her hands as they went to her head. Her head was killing her the most of it all. The cruciatus was always different whenever it was cast on her. One spell could be her heart bursting, another could be lungs, sometimes, like now, it was her brains.

When the spell was released, she stared at the ground, not saying a word. She was kneeling before him, the Dark Lord, and she wasn't submitting, but it could be viewed that way. "What do you say?"

"I'm not sorry to have hit you. Someone needed to," Antha spat at his feet. Not literally, of course. That was saved specifically for when he really pissed her off and she wanted to piss him off, too. "My Lord, you're much too forgiving. Some would say you're losing your touch."

"I've forgotten how your presence seems to amuse me to no end," the Dark Lord said dryly. "Up, girl. We have things to do"

Antha was grabbed from behind and George was in front of her, the wand gripped tightly in his hand, protecting her. "She's not going anywhere."

"You protect her after everything you know," the Dark Lord remarked. "Either stupid or very much in love. Your conclusions, Antha?"

"He's definitely not stupid," Antha remarked tightly. She placed her hands on George's waist, pulling him back a few steps and whispered in the twin's missing ear, though he could still hear her. "If you do anything, aim for the feet. I'd love to see him walk around on nubs, wouldn't you? Complete the whole picture."

George's lips twitched before he began to laugh.

"What did you say?" the Dark Lord snapped.

"That, my Lord," Antha giggled, "is Order business."

"I have a question," George stated sharply, interrupting the good mood the two Order members were sharing and then looked at the Dark Lord. "I want an answer."

"I'll be sure to give it," the Dark Lord smirked, glancing at Antha.

"Who's Salazar?"

"No one," Antha insisted. The Dark Lord's smirk grew wider.

"No one?" This time he laughed. "Antha, my dear. That is the biggest lie you've told yet. Do you always lie to the Order? Even my followers never lie." The Dark Lord's eyes traveled to the closest twin, and he looked the boy over. "Tell me if you've ever had a chance to enjoy Antha's honest company."

"Yes, I have," George said flatly, his wand not faltering. "I want to know who Salazar is."

"The head of Slytherin house," the Dark Lord said smartly. "You should be more specific in your questions, Mr. Weasley."

George twitched in annoyance, glancing at Antha quickly, before opening his mouth and saying, "And the Salazar you and Antha were discussing?"

"Oh, now that is something entirely different," the Dark Lord grinned.

"It's nothing," Antha stated simply. "Leave it be. This isn't the time to talk about it-"

George went flying aside with a spell and crashed to the ground. Antha's eyes didn't even notice the movement of the Dark Lord's wand. As George groaned, his stomach hitting a particularly large rock, the Order tried to get to the Lestrange girl, but the Dark Lord got to her first.

"Don't want to tell them?"

"Most of them already know. How could they not?" Antha spat. She struggled against his grip, but he was far stronger than she. "Spare them and leave... We'll all meet again, no doubt. We'll all be able to exchange spell fire then, but now... now we can all relax and peacefully just … not kill each other?"

Her eyes darted to George, scrambling to his feet. As he pointed his wand back at the Dark Lord, he became aware of the position Antha was in – a human shield. Again.

"Why?" the Dark Lord whispered into her ear. "Why should I?"

She didn't know. She tried to think of anything. Tried to think of any possible reason he could have. She spun in his arms, looking up at the Dark Lord and bit her lip in determination. Her idea had to work. If not... Well, she had better hoped it worked.

Her eyes flickered uncertainly and she cursed herself for leaving her wand on the ground since her cruciatus encounter. As if sensing her dilemma, the Dark Lord smirked, but she was quick. She rose to her toes, gripping both of his hallow cheeks in her hands, and planted her lips on his own pale, cold ones. She heard Order gasps, the sound of them murmuring to each other uncertainly.

As Antha kissed the Dark Lord, as passionately as she could possibly manage, the Dark Lord began to kiss back. It wasn't as though he was a bad kisser, she supposed. It wasn't that at all. He was excellent in that field, in fact. He just was, well... The Dark Lord. There wasn't another reason she could think of that this was wrong, other than the fact that she loved George and the Dark Lord had murdered thousands.

That thought alone caused her to pull back, her hands not moving though. The Dark Lord looked white, paler than normal, and horror struck. She really didn't think she was that bad of a kisser. He quickly schooled his features.

"You love me." The Order seemed frozen from the kiss and the rain in the clouds was beginning to fall, soaking all those outside. Antha stepped out of his grasp, which was frozen and no longer gripping her as tightly as before. The sunlight flickered in and out of the clouds and Antha used the particular moment the sun blinded her to take another step back.

"You're right," the Dark Lord admitted. "All you did was use me to your advantage."

"Which is just what you did to me," Antha returned evenly. The Dark Lord didn't deny it. Antha bent down, picking up her wand from her feet, and bit her lip. "Leave? Please?" It was an option left entirely up to him. He hadn't moved since the kiss, barely spoken, but he seemed to register the words she said.

"This isn't over," the Dark Lord remarked. He left in the same cloud of black dust as he came, the rain falling even harder now. Antha stared at the sky, where he had left, before she turned, finding George standing stock still. The others had retreated a bit in the rain, to get closer to the Burrow, but George hadn't moved.

She reached him, touching his arm gently, but he jerked away as if she had burned him. "George-" she tried, wincing as his eyes turned on her.

"What exactly were you doing all dressed up yesterday?"

Antha swallowed. "You know who my mother is... was."

"So you did kill her."

"Who wouldn't?"

Antha stared at him as he didn't laugh at her joke. She supposed it wasn't funny. "I don't know if I can..." He trailed off and then said harshly. "Do you kiss ever guy you get close to?"

"No, George, it's not like-" She reached for him again, but he stepped away. She dropped her hand, her dark eyes staring into his own, filling with tears. "George... It's not like that."

"Then what _is_ it like?" he demanded.

She bit her lip, frowning slightly, "It's difficult to explain..."

"Try your best," George requested sharply.

Antha glanced back at the Order, wildly setting up wards to protect themselves, and then back to George. "It's not the prettiest story."

"I don't think I care anymore."

She led him back to the Burrow, where everyone gathered around to hear the story after the whole warding mania subsided. Antha bit her lip, staring at them all before looking to her clasped hands.

"My mother convinced me, though I had not much of a choice anyway, to get a Death Eater's mark... So I was marked in my sixth year... The summer right after he returned in the TriWizard Tournament," Antha began. George flinched back, as though her presence was blindingly painful. "I never had a choice. I joined the Order that summer as well, Severus helping me as best he could to learn how to spy..."

"And you've been very loyal," Molly stated simply. "You've helped us more than even Severus did."

Antha swallowed, glad to hear it. "I got close to the Dark Lord to gain information and pass it to another spy for the Order..." She trailed off a moment as she lowered her gaze again. "Severus passed the info to the Order."

"How close did you have to get to you-know-who?" Fred asked, his body leaned forward in interest.

"How close to get information?" George continued.

"It doesn't matter," Antha admitted. "I got the information required, I got my job done... The Dark Lord knew I was an Order spy... He always knew, I think. He didn't punish me for it. The day he confronted me..." Antha shrugged lightly, a smile dancing on her lips as she remembered the day. "It was the day I ran... He wanted me to kill someone I knew from Diagon Alley. I don't remember who it was now, but a shop keeper, I believe... I ran and removed my mark."

"And you've been away for how long?"

"Almost three years... Since the summer of sixth... Ron's fourth, so he's almost done with seventh, if he was there-"

"And why did you have to get close to him? Why couldn't the Order just rely on our other spy?"

"The other spy was too important."

George blinked. "And the Dark Lord knew you were a spy the entire time?"

"When I went to get Molly and Arthur from the dungeons a few days ago... he caught me," Antha admitted. "He sent me to the dungeons and I honestly didn't expect to make it out alive... The day comes and I'm taken to my mother and this happens to me..." She gestured towards the scars, the Order taking the opportunity to stare at them. "The Dark Lord created a cover for me. He said I was ordered to go out and spy on Potter... I mean, he protected me... He didn't have to, I had accepted my fate, but he let me back into the Death Eaters without any conditions," Antha swallowed. "It's because he loves me that I'm alive... So I have to use that to my advantage."

"Yes, well, and look who trusts you now," George sneered.

She shrugged, "I never asked for your trust, but I would like it... I will never do anything to harm any of you... I would lay down my own life for you guys first."

"We know, dear... Why don't we all head to bed?" Molly suggested. "It's been a long and eventful day and you look like you could use some rest."

Every began to rise at once, Ginny oddly silent, and Antha spoke suddenly, causing them to freeze. "I think I'm going to head to Andy's... I just want to check on something."

"Running back to Death Eaters?"

Antha glanced at him to see the betrayal in his eyes and couldn't blame him. "I suppose that's fair... No, you're welcome to accompany me... I want to check on something and then I'll go to my place... Potter, hopefully, is long gone, so we don't have to worry about him..." Antha swallowed. "Goodnight, you lot."

Molly hugged Antha tightly. "I do hope you're careful."

"I'm always careful."


	6. Chapter 5: Coils of Fear

The home of Andromeda Tonks was grander than that of the Burrow, but its level of home was uniquely its own. It was Muggle neighborhood, to Ted's insistance, and the wards were thick around the gate, but that didn't stop Antha. She stepped forward cautiously, her hands raised in a surrendering gesture as she stepped through the wards. They didn't go off. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the gate door, and strode up the path, careful not to make too much sound. Her roses were lovely in the dawn light, a pale pink in color, much like Antha's scars. Her fingers lightly touched the petals and then she was mounting the small steps.

Her home was two story, gothic in style, and eerie in the shadows. Antha knocked lightly on the front door, hearing the bustle of footsteps as they walked throughout the house. The pause was very distinguishable. Antha made sure she was presentable and bit her lip nervously just as the door opened.

"I wasn't expecting visitors."

Antha looked up, hearing the older woman sound weary and older than she had last seen her. "Aunt Andy," she greeted quietly. "I'm sure you can make an exception."

But the wand was at Antha's through, as the young girl had expected. "The last words we spoke?"

"I'll be back," she answered calmly, the fear in her heart dissipating as Andy's eyes seemed to trust her. "Take care of him, and I'm sorry that I'm leaving, but I have to. It's for his own good."

The wand lowered and suddenly Andromeda Tonks' arms were surrounding the young girl, placing a warm kiss to her uninjured cheek. "Oh, it's so good to see you! I feared the worst when the Order said you and George had gone missing- Don't give me a heart attack," the woman chided suddenly, pulling the girl inside. "I'm much too young!"

"I'm sorry," Antha apologized, watching as the woman that looked nearly identical to her mother glanced out the door worriedly before shutting it and locking it tightly. "Things came up..."

Andromeda looked over the girl, not saying a word about her scars. "You look terrified."

"How is he?" she asked instead of answering the unspoken question. "I... I need to make sure he's alright."

"He's in the living room with Ted," Andromeda said gently. "We just finished breakfast. Would you like something to eat?" The one thing Antha remembered about living in the Tonks home was that breakfast was always at the crack of dawn, and dinner was always at dusk. The familiar routine put a small smile on Antha's face, relaxing her.

"Not really, thank you," she told the woman. "I think I'm going to go see him."

"I'll be in the back getting the laundry," the woman insisted, walking away and leaving Antha alone. The house creaked in its age - which had to be a hundred years old or more - and Antha cleared her throat as she moved towards the living room. Ted Tonks had a large tome on his lip, about as large as it was wide, and and seemed to be jiggling his leg. She heard a giggle come from their direction as Ted read from the book.

"Fe Fi Fo Fum!" Ted cried. "I smell the blood of an English-"

"Telling scary stories now, are you?" Antha interrupted with a goodnatured grin on her face. Ted paused and glanced up, a smile crinkling his eyes under his glasses. She approached the sandy haired man and peeked over the book of Muggle fairy tales. A little boy with black hair was wide eyed, staring up at her. "Hello, there."

"Mummy!" he cried. Ted shut the book and set it aside as the little boy launched himself at the young woman, his arms tight around her neck. Antha's own arms were tight around his body, holding him close to her as she buried her face into his ebony hair. His eyes were much like his father's, black, and his scent... He smelt of vanilla, like Aunt Andromeda's vanilla bath soap. She breathed in his scent, feeling so much calmer. "I missed you," he admitted to her.

"I missed you, too," she whispered, tears in her eyes. She had been on the run for nearly a year... a year and she hadn't seen him once. She had thought of him every day, but it was so dangerous for her to stay, especially with the Dark Lord getting more powerful. She pulled away from him, kissing his forehead. "Have you been a good boy?"

"A saint," Ted insisted. "Haven't seen a better kid."

"Including me?" she teased.

"Aye, it's close."

Antha laughed lightly and kissed her son's blushing cheek. "That's good."

"Mummy! We painted my room!" Salazar spoke suddenly, getting the attention off of himself. His temperament was the exact opposite of his father. "Do you want to see it?"

She supposed it wouldn't be their room, anymore. It was his room, now. "Of course," she said, and set Salazar down to lead her up the stairs to the bedroom. It had been Nymphadora's bedroom when she was in school, but once the girl moved out, seeking bigger and better things in the Auror department, she got a flat in London by Sirius's place and had been living there since. When Philantha left the Death Eaters, she was offered the spare room in the Tonks home. It had been a hufflepuff yellow for as long as she could remember. But when Salazar opened the smallest bedroom of the second story, she saw that the walls were now a deep, rich burgandy.

Gryffindor red. She couldn't help the breath of relief that escaped her at the sight. The room was very much the same otherwise. The bed had rich white covers atop it, the pillows a golden cream. There were a few toys scattered about, which Zar hurriedly put into his chest, blushing brightly at his mother. "Do you like it?"

"I love it," she replied honestly. No hint of Slytherin house... Nothing. She almost cried because of it.

Salazar beamed. "You do?"

Antha nodded, kicking off her shoes and biting her lip. "Salazar... do you mind if I go to bed? I'm really tired..."

He nodded eagerly. "Can I lay with you?"

She knew he couldn't be tired, but agreed all the same. Slipping into the covers, not bothering to change her clothes, she held them open for Salazar to join her. He did, and she clutched him tightly into her chest, breathing in his vanilla scent and something else... "Did you go out in the garden? Salazar, it's not even day, yet."

He giggled, "I was getting some herbs for breakfast for Aunt Andy."

"Were you?" Antha murmured, her eyes closing. He hummed an affirmative and she sighed again.

"Mummy?"

"Yes, Salazar?" she asked quietly, wondering what he was curious about. He was always a curious child, always asking her questions. Some of them she had to skirt around, because they were much too adult, but others... She wouldn't be surprised if he was in Ravenclaw.

"I missed you."

"I missed you, too," she smiled to herself.

"Did you see Daddy while you were gone?"

She hesitated. She could lie... there was always that option, but she failed to see what harm it would do to tell the truth. "Yes, I did."

"Did you talk about me?"

The poor boy... He loved his father so much, and his father hadn't even laid eyes on the boy since he was born. "We did," Antha said carefully.

"What did you say?"

"He's still not very nice," she told him quietly. "We had to talk about making him better, you see. And I told him that it would be best that he be completely well until he sees you. You understand he's not a very nice man, right?" The little boy seemed to understand perfectly, because he nodded at once. "He's hurt a lot of people."

"He's hurt you, hasn't he?"

"He has," she said quietly. She supposed she should have told her son, no, that he hadn't, but if they ever met? He'd think his father was a good person... He'd think his father was someone he should be looking up to. She didn't want that.

"Why did you fall in love with Daddy, then? If he hurts you?" Innocence, something that she desperately didn't want to destroy.

"I didn't fall in love with Daddy," she told him simply, snuggling him further. "Daddy fell in love with me... And he tricked me into loving him one day... A love potion..." It was a lie of course, but he was too young to understand. "And then we had you..."

"Does Daddy love me?"

Even though it pained her to say it... "Yes, he does," she whispered. "Enough, though... We shouldn't be talking about this."

Salazar grew quiet. "Goodnight, Mummy."

"Goodnight," Antha responded, breathing in his scent yet again. The little boy in her arms relaxed and she drifted off to sleep to the sound of his slow breathing and the feel of his heart on her ribcage.

She awoke to a depression in the bed and hugged Salazar tighter to her. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart... It's too early to be awake." He seemed to have gotten softer in her sleep, almost fluffy. Perhaps he put on a sweatshirt. The bedroom always _was_ drafty. There was no reply, however. "Salazar?" A cold fear crept up her spine as she opened her eyes. A pillow... She was hugging her pillow instead of her son.

The far window across from her line of view told her it was midday, perhaps lunch? He had to have been at lunch. She relaxed into the bed, letting out a breath and reaching over to tap the Muggle light on the nightstand. It lit up, displaying the time on the small analog clock underneath - 13:15.

She yawned lightly to herself, pulling the warm covers back and padding across the room to the wardrobe, hoping some of her clothes were left. Some were, at least.

"Do you always let your guard drop?"

A gasp left her as she selected a t-shirt and her wand - still firmly clutched in her hand - was out, pointing at the intruder. He was a young man, perhaps the age of herself, with ink black hair and black eyes that seemed to be as dark as the depths of hell. It wasn't his true form... she knew that just with a glance. "What are you doing here?" she spat. She glanced towards her closed door. "Did you hurt them? Zar, Andy, Ted?"

He smirked lightly, moving so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. His smirk had a sadistic quality to it, as though he was doing something particularly blood thirsty at the moment. She didn't see what. "Not a hair," he stated simply. He gazed around the room. "Interesting choice in color."

"Salazar chose it," she stated cautiously, her wand not faltering as she stepped away from her wardrobe. Voldemort rose from his seat, moving towards the wardrobe instead, so they began a dance around a circle. With her back to the door, she felt safer.

"He's grown up, hasn't he?" Voldemort asked casually. "Gryffindor streak, but, with time it'll pass, like all phases."

"Did you ever get past your 'World Domination' phase?"

He seemed to find this amusing, "No. Obviously not."

"Obviously," she echoed. Her free hand pulled her hair from her face and she then felt behind her for the door handle. "How did you get in here?"

"Apparation."

"They would have noticed you breaching the wards," she spoke instantly. "You couldn't have-"

He didn't seem perterbed as he picked up a picture frame from a bookshelf. She had pictures of all her school days there, on display for whenever her son felt like a bedtime story - she'd tell a particular memory captured forever in time. She couldn't see which picture the Dark Lord had selected, but knew it had to be in her sixth year, at least. It was the fifth shelf. "You seem very protective of the injured twin Weasel."

She swallowed. This wasn't where the conversation was supposed to go. "I suppose, yes."

"An infatuation."

"A friend," she returned. He raised a dark eyebrow, turning the picture around to face her.

"I've never seen you so happy." Her eyes take in the picture, the memory rushing back of the day it happened. Her and George had started a snowball war. Once the snow melted, and there were no snowballs, they had to think of an alternative method to fight out their fued. Fred had only been too happy to catch it on camera as his twin and the dark haired girl fought it out Muggle style - Nerf guns. The Muggle toy had been introduced to them on accident in her fourth year when she went with the twins and Ron to rescue Potter from his relative's home. She had seen it, fired it experimentally, and Harry had explained to her what it was. The picture, though, was when she was forced to surrender. Out of ammo, shivering in the rain, she was forced to grovel for forgiveness from the red-head.

She had done so, laughing the entire time. Fred documented the moment as proof of their peace settlement.

"Sixth year," she told him quietly. "Before the Order reformed, before... before everything happened. It was a peace treaty for a ... a snowball fight we had going on until spring." He didn't seem to care for the details though.

"Do you love him?"

She hesitated. She did, very much, but she doubted that he would take that well. "I do not know what love is." He made a noise, setting the picture down, before facing her.

"I'm here to make an offer."

"An offer," she repeated. "Of?"

"Salazar needs his parents... You come back to the Manor with me, with Salazar, and we'll live as a family should - a mother, a father, a son." Voldemort took on a sneer. "Give him the parents neither of us had. The stable home-"

"I can be the mother and father he needs," Antha interrupted. "I do not need a man in my life for that."

"How will you support him?" Voldemort inquired, stepping closer until his robes were touching the tip of her wand. "Once news gets out of your involvement with me, why... no one will hire you... No one wants a Death Eater whore." She flinched at the remark. She had prepared herself years ago for remarks such as these, but it was different hearing them aloud. "And imagine their faces when they see our _son_. He's the spitting image of me, isn't he?" She didn't anser. Salazar was very close in resemblence. "All you have left is the Dark Side... The Order can't help you now. It's too late-"

"The Order will not let secrets spill-"

"And when people like Rita Skeeter exist in the world?"

Antha suddenly felt cold. Rita Skeeter, of course, would slash her name - what little bit hadn't been ruined already by the press following her mother's escape from Azkaban - until there was no Philantha Lestrange any longer. She'd either drive Antha to extremes, or others that would seek her head on a spike. She hated to think of what they'd say about Zar... He had no choice in his parents, she wanted people to understand that, but... he loved them both, even if he had yet to speak to his father.

"Perhaps you have a point," she admitted reluctantly. "However, Salazar is perfectly fine with me. He doesn't need a father, especially not one as blood thirsty as you."

"You wound me," he said flatly. He knocked her arm aside, her wand falling from her shocked grasp. He hovered inches from her, his hands grasping her forearms tightly, holding them against her body as he spoke. She felt his grip tighten, to an almost burning pain that seemed familiar. "I will not let my son be raised to love Mudbloods and prance through the fields," Voldemort spat into her ear. "I would rather murder you than let that happen."

"You're halfway there," she hissed. "I'm his mother," she insisted. "I will raise him how I see fit, not you-"

"Either you return to Malfoy Manor with me and we raise Salazar or I move in here, with all of my Death Eaters, and I accidentally... kill... the residents." Andy... Ted. "It's all your say, my dear."

She couldn't get Ted and Andy killed. They had been so kind to her, helped her so much... "Conditions." He didn't seem pleased but as he pulled away he gestured for her to continue. "No one harms Salazar," she said immediately. "He is not touched, nor hurt, nor killed."

"Why would I kill my own heir?"

"Secondly-" Antha spoke, chosing not to answer him. "No one touches the Tonks. This is their home, and I am their guest. I do not want them to be hurt because I live here."

"That sounds reasonable."

"And Salazar and I will be allowed our own room, together," she insisted. "The same room as before, with the conjoining door." He nodded, but she continued. "Lastly, I remain in contact with the Order. I won't spill-"

"Absolutely not," the dark entity snapped immediately. "Do you take me for some sort of fool?"

"Oh, so you weren't going for that look?" Antha mock-winced, watching him carefully. She thought it was particularly amusing, but apparently he didn't think so. "Perhaps you should brush up on-"

"You're so funny," he said sarcastically, just as he did every time she insulted him in a lame attempt at a joke. The twins had rubbed off on her, she might as well use it.

"I try," she said shortly. He advanced on her, leaving no room between them but for breath. "I'm not giving him to you-"

"I get him either way," the Dark Lord sneered. "You have until midnight to decide which it will be... a minute after and I will burn this house to the ground," he threatened. "Do you understand?"

"I understand," she muttered. He smirked then, wildly in glee. As he stepped back, he disappeared in a loud crack, the black smoke billowing around where he was. Her reaction was immediately. She grabbed the wand, strengthening the wards, and stumbled back until her back was to the door. She let out a few breaths of air, trying to calm her beating heart, but it wouldn't.

She could hear the clinking of pans in the kitchen and knew Andromeda was probably just finishing lunch. Slipping her wand in her pocket, she stepped on the wooden stairs, her bare feet sliding against the cool wood. This home was always one she would love. The Tonks' had been a much more loving family than her birth parents had been. Though she had lived with the Malfoys for her childhood - until she met Andromeda at the Burrow one day and was offered the spare room - she found herself always different from them, no matter how hard they tried to impose the strick Pureblood mindset they had upon her.

Living with the Tonks had been a relief. When she came back one summer, before the start of the term, with Salazar... They had been very supportive. She had first started to work around the house, insisting she had to repay them for all the money they gave her for raising the boy. She was then banned from doing any house work, and instead had to find a more... better paying job. Her mother was a lunatic, keeping all her daughter's inheritance, so Philantha went to Diagon Alley, working in Ollivander's. From there, she stayed in the back, sorting the wands. He paid well, galleons more than she expected, and because of that she could easily slip some into Andromeda's emergency drawer.

When Sirius Black died, she had been in her final year of Hogwarts. Salazar hadn't been much older than a year, and yet he still knew there was something wrong when his favorite "Fut!" didn't arrive for his weekly visit. Slowly he forgot about the small animal, but would be reminded with a few pictures of bedtime stories and Andromeda's sudden weeping.

Salazar had horrible nightmares, leading to the heavy silencing charms around their bedroom. She made it so that she could hear everything going on around them, but they couldn't hear her... and by default, Salazar. Some nights, when she herself had nightmares, she had Salazar sleep with Andromeda, telling him she was getting a fever and didn't want him to get sick. The boy believed her and did as asked. They never heard her scream, just as she wanted. And as her feet landed at the last step, she knew she couldn't tell Andromeda the Dark Lord had been upstairs. Call her crazy, but she knew... Antha knew that if they thought the Dark Lord was able to get into the wards, they may move - putting them in more danger. He had promised not to hurt them. She had twelve hours to make the right decision - and she knew what choice she would make in the end.

Ted Tonks was sitting at the head of the table, a Prophet spread out in front of him, blocking her view of his face. His leg was bouncing what she assumed was Salazar, and the young girl nodded her "Good Afternoon." Turning slightly, she saw Andromeda plate a few of her delicious ham and cheese sandwiches. The cheese was oozing off the sides, making Antha's mouth water. "Sorry, I, uh... fell asleep."

"Oh, no worries, dear. You looked dead on your feet when you arrived, so we let you rest," Andromeda said kindly. She moved towards the Muggle microwave, pulling out a few items from a can and then placing a porcelin bowl inside to cook. "Did you sleep well?"

"Pleasantly," Antha said quietly. "Can I help with something?"

"You can place the bowls on the table," Andromeda insisted, waving the girl out of the kitchen. "You've just gotten back from doing God knows what-"

She took two bowls in her hands, watching as Andromeda kept her back turned to the girl and worried over a few fresh greens, chopping them with much attention. She hadn't glanced at Antha since she arrived from her nap. Antha placed the bowls on the table and then returned for the other two. "Salazar, why don't you go wash your hands? We'll be eating soon." She stopped at the edge of the table when Andromeda turned sharply, giving the girl a confused look. Ted's paper dropped, revealing something that made Antha's breath catch. The bowls crashed to the table.

"_Philantha Lestrange_!" Andromeda cried as the bowl crashed, cracking and spilling the hot soup all over the table. Ted shot to his feet to escape the liquid, but Antha didn't move as it scalded the front of her pants, burning her skin. Antha backed up, swallowing in fear.

"Where's Salazar...?" She glanced at Andromeda, begging for her to say that he was already in the bathroom.

"He was upstairs with you-"

"He didn't come down here? He didn't come down in the middle of-" She took off in a sprint, her feet pounding on the wood as she ran up the stairs and began to throw things aside in her room to find out if the little boy was hiding. "Salazar! Come out! This isn't funny!" She tried to think of the spell she had learned, just in case he ran away from her in Muggle London, or they got separated. It couldn't come to mind. She was kneeling at the foot of her bed, looking underneath to see if there was anyone. Just spare toys Salazar had obviously hid to say his room was clean, when Ted stopped at the door, slightly out of breath.

"Antha, what in Merlin's name is going on?"

"Salazar... We need to find him right now." She had to find him by midnight. She couldn't _not_ find him. If she didn't show up with Salazar... if she didn't arrive at the Manor without Salazar, he'd kill them. She couldn't let them die... She'd rather be viewed a traitor than let them die. She scrambled for the wand that had fallen to her feet, clutching it tightly as she stood. "I'm going to the Order- Keep looking here. He might be hiding-"

She apparated with a crack before she could finish and a cloud of smoke surrounded her. It hadn't surrounded her since she removed the Dark Mark, but she put it off as stress. Merlin, she was going to be gray by thirty at this rate.

The Burrow was silent as she approached it, tripping over her bare feet. Perhaps she should have put shoes on? She knocked loudly on the front door, pushing past Molly as the door opened.

"Antha?"

"I rescued you, you gave my wand back, kissed the Dark Lord, yeah. Me." she said shortly, speaking so fast she could barely understand herself. "Did you pick up Salazar? Or maybe Tonks, this afternoon?" She had to get straight to the point.

"I... No, I didn't," Molly said slowly. "Antha, take a deep breath, what happened?"

"He's missing!" Antha cried, tears in her eyes as she tried to come up with an explanation. "I woke up... He's not there. I checked everywhere! I-"

"Come, you're a mess," Molly said quietly, taking the girl's arm and leading her towards the dining room. It was full, people eating the lunch she had probably just served. "Arthur, call the Order. Falcon moving. Boys, get upstairs. Take your food with you-"

"Mum!" Fred protested. "But, we're in the Order-"

"Oh, whatever, but eat quickly." Molly guided Antha to the only chair empty, which had to be Molly's own, and left just as quickly as Arthur sprang to life. He cast his patronus, a weasel that figeted around on the table.

"Falcon moving. I repeat, Falcon moving. Boy gone missing." The weasel dashed off and Antha sank into the chair, her hands covering her face. "They'll be on their way soon," Arthur comforted the girl with a firm hand on her shoulder. "You know he will be fine-"

"We know who has him," she said viciously, shaking off Arthur's comfort. "We know where he is." Hot tears choked from her throat, but they escaped, where she angrilly brushed them away. "I should have... I should have killed him when I had the chance. He was _right_ there. He talked as if he already had him-"

"Who did?" Arthur asked. "Who was it?"

"Voldemort," she snapped bitterly, her head falling so that it nearly smacked against the wooden table. "Merlin, I was _so close_."

"Did he show up at Andromeda's?" Bill asked, alert now. She lifted her head to look at him, worrying her lip as tears gathered in her eyes.

"I didn't... I was sleeping. I was _holding Salazar in my arms_, and I wake up and it's just a pillow... He's gone. And the Dark Lord's sitting at the end of the bed with an ultimatum-"

"Are Andromeda and Ted alright?"

"They're fine," Antha said bitterly. "What the fuck am I doing? I should have said it. Two words... He would have died-"

"Did he take Salazar?"

"Of course he did!" she cried desperately. "Right from my arms and I didn't even _wake up_. He was ..." She sobbed, her fingers covering her face as she couldn't hold it in anymore. "I should have waken up. It's all my fault."

"It's not your fault," Arthur said immediately. "We'll get him back."

"I have until midnight to arrive at Malfoy Manor with Salazar... or ... or he killed Andromeda and Ted. I can't..."

Molly appeared suddenly, a small rag in her hands. "What happened to your pants dear?"

"When I realized he wasn't there... when he wasn't on Ted's lap, and Ted wasn't reading him the paper... I-" She winced as Molly did a few healing spells under the fabric for the burns. It hurt; the soup had been fresh. "And _he wasn't there_. I've never felt so much fear... We have to get him ... He can't stay there, he just can't and-"

"Maybe some of his followers found you-"

"They wouldn't have kept me alive," she said pointedly to the twin that had spoken. Fred. "They would have killed me as soon as they saw me sleeping in an Order member's house. Andy and Ted wouldn't be alive either, so it wasn't just a follower."

A knock sounded and it was the first of the Order arriving. The conversation would wait until they all arrived.


	7. Chapter 6: Order Problem, Dark Solution

There were skeptics, and then there believers. Half the Order believed her to be working for the Dark Lord. The other half believed her to be the victim of this kidnapping. So she showed them the memory, very willingly. Then the skeptics turned into believers. Mad-Eye, however, was one of the few that did it hesitantly.

"Why didn't you tell them the Dark Lord was in their spare room, girl?"

"I thought he was gone," she insisted. "If I could get to the Manor by midnight, they wouldn't be harmed... It didn't concern them, as long as he kept his end of the bargain."

He grunted, but didn't say anything more. "So this... Salazar," George said with difficulty. "He's your son."

"Yes," Antha answered quietly. "I... I didn't exactly consent, but that hardly matters. The Dark Lord gets what he wants."

"And that was you."

"Of course it was," she said flatly. "I was the Pureblood, the only Pureblood with a fertile body and not in the binds of a marriage, or marriage contract. If it wasn't me, it was Pansy Parkinson, who wasn't even fifteen at the time. I was pregnant quickly... He-Severus had this potion, one that was of the most forbidden of concoctions. It's been banned by the Ministry since the sixteen hundreds when the population boom occurred... It sped up the process. What is usually eight or nine months, turned two. It was dangerous, not just for me, but for Salazar. Only the strongest can survive it. You have to be literally hooked up to nutrient IV's and eat and sleep constantly. But I survived and as soon as Salazar was born, and named, I ... I fled to Andy's first, explained to her what happened, and then I went to St. Mungo's for my arm..."

"I remember getting the owl saying you had been hurt," Molly answered. "But before you could be visited, you were discharged."

"Why didn't you try to escape when you first found out you were pregnant?" George asked.

She snorted. "Yeah, right. I was under surveillance constantly. The Dark Lord personally was my guard... No one touched me, no one leered at me, no one thought about snatching me and having a romp in the hall. I was safe, as safe as I could get." She stared at the wood of the table, her forehead creasing as she thought. "I wasn't... I tried to escape, when I first found out. After I had been given the potion, and I had been starving. I was always so hungry..." She blinked. "I used the silk curtains of my bedroom... I tied them tightly, wound them around the balcony ledge, and I tried to climb down. I got to the front lawn... I was _so_close to the gate, but suddenly he was there, asking me what I was doing. I told him I was getting air."

She shook her head. "He was so angry," she said as she continued. Her hands began to twist at her hair, braiding a few strands and then unbraiding it. "I tried to ... I tried to explain it was just to get air, but he was beyond listening. He took me inside, he grabbed Draco-" She winced as she remembered the memory. "I whipped my cousin. I was imperio'd of course. I'd never hurt him, he knows that. I apologized so much when I healed him-"

"Why did you heal him and not the elves or St. Mungo's?"

"I was responsible," she said quietly. "If you haven't noticed, Death Eaters don't go to the hospital. Not unless it's severely life threatening. Narcissa, she's very well adept at healing magic. She had been teaching me since I was young, always telling me I'd need it. I'm good at it, not the best, but I can save a life. So that's what the wives of the Death Eaters do - they heal their husbands, or their family members. So, I healed Draco. I learned my lesson - don't leave or someone gets hurt. So I didn't leave."

"And when you finally did?"

She looked up at the Order, her eyes steely and dark. "Prisoners were released from Azkaban. All those that died because my mother was rampaging through the country side or Greyback was tearing the throats of little children out... it's because I got away. And he knew that it would tear me apart every day because innocent people were dying." She dropped her gaze again, her fingers still in her hair. "We have to find Salazar... because if he doesn't ... I promised I'd go to the Manor by midnight... I'll make good on my promise, but he needs to be with me for it to work."

"Why would you promise that?"

She glanced at George, her brow furrowing. "Why would I promise?" He nodded. "Ted and Andromeda have been... they've been my family for years... They've taken me, they've fed me, they've clothed me... They protected me and Salazar. I won't throw it in their faces by getting them murdered."

"Why would he keep his word, anyway?" George continued. "You go to him, what's to say he won't kill them anyway?"

He had a point, but she had an answer. "He won't cause me pain if I do what he says," she whispered. "I obey him, he obeys his word. I disobey, he disobeys. He knows I'll never love him, but he won't give up trying."

"What if he already has Salazar?" Bill asked. "What he's going to use him as bait?"

"I don't know," she insisted. "It would make sense, but... He was gone when I woke up... The Dark Lord was still there. He couldn't have apparated three times without my knowledge... I would have woken up, I'm sure of it."

"Regardless, there were apparations," Bill pointed out. "If he brought someone with him, you would have had an apparation crack, and a disapparation crack. You say you would have woken up, but apparently not. Is there a way you can contact someone there? Someone you trust?"

"Severus won't know," she stated quietly. "He's not even there. He's at Hogwarts- I have a way though... I-I need a mirror."

"What size?"

"Just a ... a foyer mirror," Antha told Molly, "like in your foyer. The connection doesn't stay open, just as long as the spell is spoken and until the other side ends the transmission."

"Come with me," Molly said, taking the girl's arm and pulling her into the foyer.

She sat nervously in front of the mirror, her hands tugging the sleeves of her sweater as she almost annoyingly rocked back and forth in her nervousness. "Philantha, are you sure this will work?"

She glanced at Molly, nodding slightly. "I haven't used this in years... I don't even know if he has the mirror, anymore, but it's worth a shot... We can't contact Severus, ask him, so... this is the best we can do."

"Go ahead."

"I need... I need you to stay on the far side of the room," Antha said, gesturing towards the walls the mirror was hanging on in the front room of the Burrow. "He can't see you."

"And if we disillusion ourselves?" George asked.

"Whatever you prefer," Antha said absently. She picked up her wand from her lap and waited for everyone to get situated. "Not a sound." She was met with nods. Tapping her wand to the glass, she closed her eyes, letting out a deep breath, and words twisting among them. Not a sound, however, was made from the others as the metallic sheen of the glass rippled. She opened her eyes to see it stop, and the view of the dark bedroom came to sight. She let out a slow breath, not many happy memories associated with the place, before she rose from her seat, clearing her throat. "My Lord?" There was silence. Perhaps he wasn't in the room. He hardly left it in the afternoon, instead leaving at night. There was a bed in her view, meaning he had moved the mirror since, and she saw a sleeping figure inside. He was there, and she'd have to wake him.

This wasn't going to be good.

She cleared her throat a little louder this time, causing the blanketed figure to stir. She stepped closer to the mirror, until her fingers were resting on the table it sat on. "My Lord," she said rather loudly, getting down so she could kneel and be eye level with the glass in front of her. The figure rose in a flourish, a smoke spinning around him, and then his face appeared. "My Lord," she repeated quietly. "I..."

"How dare you disturb-"

"Save the semantics for later," she interrupted. Her eyes darted around the room, hoping to spot her son. He noticed.

"What are you looking for? Are you at the Order? That place looks nothing like the Black house-"

"No, I'm not at the Order," she spat. "I'm in the Tonks'. Now, are you going to shut up for five seconds so I can speak or are you going to keep blabbering about all the information you have?" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw some of the Order pale at her blunt, and rather insulting speech, to the leader of the Dark Side who was known for having a twisted sense of humor and no mercy.

His eyes flashed and he took a seat on a chair he conjured with a wave of his wand, before he spoke again. "Perhaps if you stopped hesitating like a blubbering fool we could get to the point of this conversation."

"It's a rather odd question, I suppose," she stated on a tangent. "Um, not really-"

"Hurry up before I grow bored," he snapped, his voice a hiss of anger.

"Right," she said quickly. She swallowed. "I've been searching everywhere. He's not under the bed, he's not hiding in the garden- He's not anywhere. Before I have half the mind to call the Order on the search, please..." She didn't mean to sound so desperate, but she couldn't help it. "Is Salazar there?"

He blinked. "You've misplaced your son."

"No," she said hastily. "I haven't- No, I didn't misplace him. I just... I woke up and assumed he was downstairs... and he wasn't... _Please_, tell me you have him."

He leaned back in the chair, his arms crossing. "And if I do?"

She exhaled in relief. "Oh, thank Merlin. I thought some of your rebel Death Eaters got him..."

"You have eight hours," he stated flatly. "Then the decision isn't yours."

"Understood," Antha said clearly. He made to move, but she continued quickly. "Is Salazar there now? Can I speak to him?"

The figure before her morphed into the twenty year old Tom Riddle, handsome and intelligent and... very Slytherin. "If you must."

He snapped his fingers and hissed something to an elf out of her view. There was a crack, followed by another, and then Salazar was being lifted onto Voldemort's lap so he could see into the mirror.

"Mummy?" Salazar said, confused, his hands reaching to touch the glass, but they pressed against it. Antha's hand shook as she pressed it against the glass, over his.

"Salazar... Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine," he answered brightly. "The elves have been hanging out with me... They even gave me lunch, because I missed Aunt Andy's ham and cheese sandwiches."

"She switched to those nasty liver rolls last minute," Antha lied, watching as Zar crinkled his nose in disgust. She giggled, pulling her hand back as he did his own. "I'm going to come for you, Salazar, okay?"

"Okay... But you, me, and Daddy can all hang out in the garden, right? Because there are some really pretty white chickens that I want to play with-"

"Peacocks," Voldemort corrected. "Not chickens."

"Peacocks? What are those?"

"The big white birds in the yard," Antha answered her son. "With the very pretty feathers..." She glanced discreetly to the side to see the Order member still, silent against the wall. She glanced back at Voldemort and Salazar. "I... I need to go, Salazar... But I'll be there soon, I promise you. And I promise I'll take you into the yard to see the chickens."

He giggled, "See? They are chickens!"

"No, they're not," Voldemort said flatly. He cast Antha a flat glare. "Who is there with you?"

"I'm alone," Antha said immediately. "Andy and Ted have gone out to search for him. I'll have to tell him that he's fine, but... But you can't hurt him. Three year olds do not have the mentality I do," she told him sharply. "They cannot withstand torture for information. He doesn't know anything about the Order, I swear to you. I keep him out of everything."

Voldemort smirked, "Oh, I know. He thought I was sick. Where did he get that idea?"

"You are sick," she spoke stiffly. "You're a sadistic human being that cares for no one but himself-"

"Ouch, not in front of the children," Voldemort smirked. She glanced at Salazar, to see him confused and glancing at his mother in surprise. She had never been angry like that in front of him before. "I'm far from sick. I've never felt more alive-"

"Strange, since you've experienced twelve years of your life as a dead man," she snorted.

"Time to go. Say your goodbyes."

"I love you, Mummy."

Her heart broke at the worried expression he was giving her. "I love you, too, sweetheart. I'll see you very soon."

The mirror turned back into her own reflection in a blink and she felt it hurt more than she thought it would. Her son was literally in his clutches.

"What do we do?" Molly asked.

"I have to go," Antha insisted. "I have to go to him, or he's going to kill Andy and Ted..." She felt ill. "Oh, God-" She rose to her feet, brushing off her jeans, and moved the chair back, in a flurry. She needed to go soon. She had to go soon. She had eight hours... She could use the time to prepare, but there wasn't anything to prepare. "I don't know if I need to pack... My room was pretty much full of clothes-"

"Antha-"

"-and Narcissa seemed-"

"Antha!" someone cried. Antha stopped, her mouth snapping shut as she dug into her pocket for her wand. It was George. Why did he seem so concerned over her now? Before, she was scum for even being associated with the Dark Lord. "I'll... I'll go with you-"

"_George_!" Molly cried in horror.

"No," George insisted. "I... He knows I escaped... She can say she caught me... She can say that she's bringing me back-"

"The Dark Lord knows why I'm coming back," Antha said, but she was staring at him in wonder. Why would he offer this? "Besides, he kills people that escape... You wouldn't last five seconds... It's better you stay here, George."

"But I can protect you-"

"You wouldn't be able to," she told him quietly. "If you're not killed, you're put into servitude... It's best you stay here-"

"So, when you get there and the other Death Eaters think you're a deserter? That you leave just for the hell of it-"

"George!" Molly said again, but he ignored her.

"We make a good story... They won't turn on you, you'll be trusted-"

"Why would you do this?" Antha asked in confusion. "Why would you... They'll kill you, George... I can't let you die. If Molly doesn't kill me for it-" She glanced at the furious red-headed woman. "Then Ginny will. It's too dangerous. I have to watch your back, as well as Zar's... I don't know if-"

"You need a story. I'm expendable-"

Antha glanced at Fred, who didn't seem to want to disagree with his brother. "Fred, tell him... Please, tell him to stay here." If George would listen to anyone, it'd be Fred. The two were inseperable. Fred remained silent, though, neither endorsing or forbidding his twin from going. "Fred-"

"Antha, you know it's the best shot we have-"

"We?" Antha asked, laughing bitterly. "Not even twelve hours ago you were sneering in disgust at me. Not more than twelve hours ago was I the Dark Lord's whore to you, and I was disgusting... I will not let you risk your life just to ... to fix some past event. It's not worth it, George. I'm going on my own-"

He pushed her back suddenly, until her back was against the wall. She gasped in surprise, but he didn't seem to care. "George!" Molly cried. "What on Earth-" George was already stepping towards her and then he kissed the young girl so ready to risk her life for the only family she wanted and cared for. It was so much more passionate than the kiss she had given him before she disappeared ... was it just days ago? Already it felt like weeks, perhaps months. His hands gripped her waist in a gentle, but firm, grip as he pulled her flush against his body, deepening the kiss. She was already faint headed from her stress over Salazar - she hadn't eaten in nearly twelve hours - but this... this was a valid reason to pass out over.

His lips pulled away, but he didn't remove himself from her personal space. "I'm going with you, Antha." Breathlessly, and flushing a dark red, she shook her head. Merlin, not in front of his parents - and Fred! "You said he won't cause you pain if you do what he says-"

"That doesn't mean he won't cause you pain," she cut him off. "You'll be tortured, George... Please-" She was pleading with him to make him see reason. Why would he put himself in the danger? In the pain?

"I'm going with," he insisted. "Antha, I'm not letting you go there alone."

She sighed carefully, not giving him any inclination she would allow it or not. "I'm not... I'm not leaving until half past eleven," she told him carefully. "I don't want to give him the satisfaction of arriving early... I do not want you to go... So I'm hoping, in the next seven and a half hours, that you'll change your mind... that you'll remember the last time you were there."

"It was worth it."

"I saved your arse," she told him, "because you were an idiot and tried to rescue me."

"Damsel in distress," he grinned easily.

"If you mean yourself, then yes," she smirked lightly. She pushed him away from her, pulling her sweater down where he had moved it to grab her. She cleared her throat, blushing lightly as Molly still looked furious.

"George Fabian Weasley, you are _not_ going to the Malfoy Manor, and neither is Philantha-"

"I'm not letting her go alone, and she's not letting the Tonks get murdered, so I guess we're stuck-"

"She's absolutely right, George! They'll _kill _you."

"And at least it will be doing something to help the Order-"

"George, are you _sure_ you want to do this?" Bill asked, cutting the younger boy off. "Once you get there, there's no backing out."

Antha watched as George thought a moment, and she would have been worried if he had nodded immediately, before he nodded. "Yes, I'm sure. Salazar, right?"

It took Antha moment to realize George was talking to her. "Oh, um, yes... Salazar Thomas Riddle." He grimaced at the name, especially the middle and last, but she didn't expect him to smile at it either.

"He's more important. We don't want another Dark Lord to run around," George insisted. "We don't want him trained in the Dark side."

Reluctantly, the Order agreed. And life resumed. Molly had them all go back to their meals, offering Antha - though she was a bit cold towards the girl - a plate of her own.

"I should go to Andromeda, actually," Antha said quietly. "They must be worried-"

"I contacted them," she cut off. "While you were talking to the mirror, I sent an owl."

"Oh," Antha said, glancing at the mirror in question. It was solid. She knew it couldn't be opened - he had no idea what the address for it was anyway - but it was still unsettling. "Thank you." As the boys trickled out, it was just the two women. Molly's stare turned deadly and she was suddenly not the kind woman that had invited her over for the summers. She was a mother, protecting her young from harm.

"If he dies," she warned sharply. "You'll wish you were never born. I don't care who you are or how much I consider you family."

Antha nodded immediately. "I... I love him, Molly... I'll do whatever it takes to protect him. Whatever it takes... I don't want him dead, either, but he's too stubborn for his own good."

Molly nodded, her chin wobbling as she held back tears, and she cleared her throat. "You know what it's like to lose a son... You've experienced that panic that you may never get them back. With Salazar... You looked as if you would never be the same again," Molly told the young girl. "That's what I'm going to feel like when you take George with you. I'm already starting to feel it."

Antha nodded. "I'll bring him back. . . I'll go in, get Zar, and flee. It'll be quick. It won't take more than a day. It shouldn't anyway. Tomorrow's Thursday, he's always out on Thursdays... I can 'sleep in' and then... sneak to the dungeons. . . Or wherever they put him... He won't be too hurt..."

"And if he dies?"

Antha bit her lip, her eyes welling up with tears. "I'll stay there. But I'll die before he dies."

"The Dark Lord won't kill you."

"Yes," Antha agreed mildly, "but someone else might."


	8. Chapter 7: Losing Face

He wouldn't stop pacing. It was driving her mad. She was sitting in the living room with the rest of the Weasley family - the Order having left - and he wouldn't stop pacing. "George!" she snapped after the fifth time of telling him to sit down. "Stop it before I stab you with the fire poker."

He glanced at her, but didn't stop. "No, I need to think."

"If you can't go-"

"No, I can go. I will go," he answered. "I just need to think. Do I act like my handsome, charming self? Or do I act like I hate you?"

"Hate," she answered. "Like I betrayed you and you can't stand the sight of me..." She snorted to herself, picking at her jeans. "Shouldn't be too hard."

"I don't-" George sighed, giving up and sank onto the couch beside his twin, who was falling asleep on his palm. He jerked as George jostled him with his ungraceful movements and glanced at the clock. Ten minutes.

"You'll patronus us if anything goes wrong?" Bill asked.

"I promise," Antha insisted. She had made the same promise four times in the last hour alone. Their definition of wrong was probably more high maintenance than hers, however. She viewed wrong as dying, wrong as there would be no more George, not a smack across the face or a torture session.

The next ten minutes seemed to pass quickly and then Antha was standing, her wand tightly in her hand, and George quickly following.

"I'll bring him back," Antha promised them, not bothering to say goodbye. She moved towards the front door and George was following, looking a bit worried. As soon as she closed the Burrow's front door shut behind them, she rounded on George, punching him in the face.

"Oi! Bloody hell!" George cried. "What was that for?"

She winced, rubbing her knuckles. "I need it to look like I just roughed you up," she said as her apology. "Glamours can easily be detected-"

"A little warning, next time?"

"Right." She punched him in the right jaw and he stumbled, glaring at her.

"Bloody hell! I said warning!"

"And I said right!" she shot back. She looked him over, before shaking her head and grabbing his shirt. She tore at the sleeve a bit and then popped a few buttons out of place. "There, much better. You look like you just got kidnapped against your will."

He took her wrists, which were clutching at his jacket, and captured her lips in one last kiss before their departure. It was full of words that didn't need to be said, promises that couldn't be made. Love that couldn't be given freely. She couldn't profess her love for him, even if he did for her. If she did... the Dark Lord would kill him, viewing him as a threat. She had to protect him.

Pulling away, she let her fingers linger on his already bruising jaw. "I'll protect you," she promised in a whisper.

"Just don't let them kill me."

"I won't," she promised.

She apparated with a crack, the black dust swirling around her, as she landed at the gates of Malfoy Manor. She stepped away from him, glancing around. "Come along, Weasley." She gripped his collar, though she was much shorter than him, and thrust him forward as she strode _through_ the gates. They reappeared behind them, but the magic astounded George.

"No need to be rough," George muttered.

Antha smirked, easily getting into character. If there was one thing she was good at, it was playing Death Eater. They had no reserves, no thought, just horrid actions. She strode to the front door and pressed her hand to the wood, granting her access. An elf greeted her immediately.

"Tell the Dark Lord Antha's back... And I've captured the Weasley prisoner," Antha snapped at the creature, knowing it frightened the poor thing, but having to do it. It murmured a "Yes, my Lady" before it was gone. She was left alone in the foyer, her grip still firm on George's collar, his wand in her palm with her own, as she pointed them at his head, as if it were those Muggle guns she saw on the Tonks' television. Footsteps alerted her to arrival of the Dark Lord. He was alone, but he didn't seem any less vulnerable.

His eyes assessed the scene, lingering on Antha the longest. "You came... I was beginning to think you would leave Salazar here after all."

"Of course not, my dear," Antha said as though the term of endearment was natural. "I'm not letting him live in this hell hole by himself. He needs some sort of sanity, after all. Look... I've brought you a gift. I believe you remember Mr. Weasley."

"Ah, yes," Voldemort murmured, his twenty year old self shocking George - she could feel him jerk back in surprise at the sight of him. "Nasty bruise you have there."

"Oops," Antha giggled, biting her lip as she glanced at the Dark Lord. He didn't seem surprised she was the maker of the bruise.

"Why did you bring him?"

"He escaped the prisons, didn't he?" Antha smirked. "Besides, I didn't think you were quite finished with him."

The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes, gesturing for her to follow him. Antha shoved George in front, her wand and hand still in position. She led him to the Dark Lord's study, where there seemed to be a vacancy around them. "They are out on a mission," the Dark Lord answered her unasked question. "The Manor is nearly empty, except for Narcissa and Salazar."

Upon entering the study, only the fireplace was blazing. Voldemort took a seat behind the desk and Antha sat across the table, tossing George roughly into the spare seat. "My Lord, this is an... unusual change of procedure," Antha remarked casually.

"I gave you his wand," Voldemort said slowly. "You ran with him... And yet you bring him back."

"Favorability amongst your followers is most desired," Antha said with a sweet smile. "I'm almost appalled you haven't asked if I wanted any tea yet. You upset a girl's feelings."

Voldemort leaned forward, his fingers pressed together under his chin. "You think them seeing you returning a prisoner will gain favor amongst my ranks."

Antha leaned forward as well, nodding. "Of course. Who would they trust more? The girl that returns empty handed, having left the same day as the prisoner, or... the girl that left the same day as the prisoner, because you ordered her to retrieve the prisoner, and having returned with the prisoner?"

He nodded, "Fair point."

"Precisely," Antha grinned. "So, George, here, was a volunteer for the idea. Even suggested it." Antha risked a glance at George to see him astounded at their familiarity. "You see, George, I don't lie to the Dark Lord. And... he does whatever he likes with me."

"You mean, rape," George said bluntly, giving the Dark Lord a glare of hate.

"She wants it in the end," Voldemort said as if that mattered. It didn't, though. It was still a horrid act only the lowest of the low performed. Antha rolled her eyes as the Dark Lord did his best to intimidate George. "I'm sure she's quite willing with you."

"I've told you, George and I are friends," Antha said with a sigh, leaning back in her chair. "I really am looking for tea, my Lord. It's most deplorable manners to not offer it."

Voldemort sneered, "Tea?"

"Please," Antha said brightly, giggling to herself as she leaned forward. "Two sugars, a dash of milk, and a lemon." She watched as the Dark being took a breath of practiced patients. "Oh, and those crumpets - you know the ones - with the chocolate ribbon along the sides and the strawberry jam in the middle."

Voldemort rolled his eyes, snapping his fingers. An elf came in, bowing to both of the once, or current, residents. George was ignored. "Fetch her some tea the way she likes it. And the strawberry biscuits."

"Yes, My Lord. Tippy will be right back, my Lord."

"Disgusting creatures, elves," Voldemort spoke once it was gone. "You seem happy to be here."

Antha smirked. "Would you rather I kick and scream?"

Voldemort seemed highly amused by this. "Am I the phsyical cause of it?"

Antha's smirk lost some of its calliber. "I didn't mean it that way... I love it here too much, my dear, to simply stay away. You were right, earlier, about the Order. Not a single look when they found Zar had gone missing... When they found out _who_ Zar was. So I figured, what's better? Being nothing?" She wrinkled her nose to show how much she hated the idea. "Or to be the Dark Lord's lover? The last one has more of a... let's say, romantic appeal."

"You want something," Voldemort observed. "What is it?"

She grinned, "What makes you think I want something?"

"You're overly... mushy this evening," Voldemort observed thoughtfully. Tea appeared then, as well as a plate of strawberry biscuits. She took them carefully, biting from the biscuit before she sipped her tea. Tangy and sweet, just the way she liked it.

"I figured, if I buttered you up, you'd let him live."

She might as well have been blunt. It wasn't like there was sugar coating death. "I see," Voldemort said, glancing at George, who was silent and stiff the entire exchange. "You still haven't given me a valid reason why he's good to have alive."

She thought for a moment, "Well, there's the mindblowing sex I've heard he's capable of. Word got around the Gryffindor dorm, you know." George sputtered in surprise. "And there's the fact that he owns the most successful joke shop in Britain... well, co-owns it, of course. And then there's the whole 'He's Potter's best-friend's brother' thing, which, I personally find a very good reason to keep him alive. So, you can take your pick, but I'm sure I can make up more."

"Make up more?" Voldemort inquired with a quirk of his lip. "Which were true?"

"I believe that's a Muggle game, where you identify the lie," she said lightly. "You have three guesses."

Voldemort rolled his eyes yet again. "You amuse me. I've forgotten how when you're happy you try to be funny."

"So that means you _aren't_ killing him," she returned with a giggle. "Goody, now I can rest soundly knowing his mother won't murder me in my sleep."

George straightened a bit and glanced at her. "Antha-"

"I never said you could speak," Voldemort hissed in a voice that would cause even the toughest of men to cower. He did just that, immediately shutting his mouth and sinking back in his chair. "Oh, Antha, do you see what I see?"

"A... ginger?" she asked, hoping she could get him back into a good mood. Bad moods were bad things. If he was in a bad mood, he wouldn't be too kind - not like he was ever, but he'd be a bit more merciful.

"An obedient servant."

She blanched. "Oh..." She gave a nervous laugh, shooting George a worried look. "Is that so? What gave you that idea? You know, I find that he's really not that much of a useful person to keep- Rather fond of breaking the rules, you know. And-"

"Oh, I believe you've convinced me," Voldemort cut in with a malicious grin, "that he's useful. Tell me, boy, have you ever been a servant before?"

"No..."

"No?"

"No, I can't say I have."

"What he means, my Lord," Antha cut in quickly as the Dark Lord's lip curled in anger, "is 'no, my Lord.' He only works in the shop and degnoming the garden."

"Interesting," Voldemort said, leaning forward as he assessed the twin before him. "Your ear. What happened?"

"One of your swine got me with a slicing hex, I suspect... Maybe sectumsempra."

"He means," Antha cut in hastily, "'Maybe secumsempra,_ my Lord_.'" George didn't seem to be getting the hint, or he was ignoring it all together.

"And your brother, Ronald... He's traveling with Harry Potter, still?"

"Yes," George noddded. "I suspect he's saving his arse, and the rest of the wizarding world's-"

"He means the rest of the wizarding world's, _my Lord_," Antha corrected desperately. Still, George wouldn't listen.

"-from you," George finished.

"George!" Antha hissed, shooting him a glare. The red-headed boy with a forming black eye and bruised jaw glanced at her, as if he seemed to realize what he just said. His eyes widened in horror, but Antha rounded on the Dark Lord. "You imperio'd him!" she accused. "How dare you-?"

"He fought," Voldemort stated. "Very well, but not well enough to earn himself freedom. Servitude it is. He'll be yours, Antha."

She swallowed a feeling of cold muck in her throat, her biscuit no longer as good as she remembered. She set it down, nodding once. She drank heavily from her tea as the Dark Lord and George looked at her, but George didn't speak. Good. She set the tea down on the edge of the study's desk, clearing her throat. "Perhaps the elves should have put something stronger in the tea," Antha said as an afterthought. "I've always had some alcohol before I do this."

"There's always a first for everything," Voldemort commented dryly. "Take him from my sight-"

"Salazar?" she cut in, her eyes meeting his own brown. "Where is he?"

"Your bedroom, asleep, I suspect."

She nodded quietly, standing and pulling George up as well. She took him to the door before she stopped, hesitating. "What's his number?"

"One hundred eighty-eight."

She let out a breath. They had many more than she realized, since she left. "I trust you still have the usual fifty one percent?"

"Of course," he said with a smirk.

Philantha stepped into the cool, deserted hall. She was about to lead George through it when a hand grabbed her arm. She gasped, spinning around, and causing George to look in surprise as well. It was just Voldemort, his eyes dangerous as he stared down at her. "I don't know what game you're playing, but I wouldn't try anything funny. I am not merciful and we don't want your friend to die now, do we?"

"No, my Lord," she whispered, swallowing. "No game. I just want my son back."

"There is a meeting at midnight. Make it quick."

She nodded, swallowing tightly. "Of course, my Lord. I may be a tad late, since it's already 23:53."

"Make an entrance then," he smirked. "I remember you're quite good at those."

"Shall I wear anything special, my Lord?" she asked politely. "Any special requests?"

"Something revealing," Voldemort stated, looking her over. "And not Muggle."

She giggled, glancing at her clothing. "You don't like it? I find it to be rather ... easy to peel off, don't you?"

"I prefer you in skirts."

"Yes, yes, Pureblood fashion and all that," Antha snorted, waving her hand in a dismissal as she tugged George further into the hall. "I'll see you soon, my dear." Once she was around the corner, she looked George over. "Are you alright?"

"What the bloody hell was that? A contest of wits?"

"It's just how we are," Antha shrugged. "I don't give it much thought, I just keep the conversation going. It's better that way."

"Better for who?" George asked and she saw that he was looking at her with concern. She knew he was concerned, she had given him enough hints to know what she went through here, but she would live. He was her biggest concern. Salazar would be safe, as long as she was here. "I worry sometimes," he said quietly. "That you aren't sane in the head... I mean, when we were on the run, you were pretty... excentric at times, but I've never seen you act like this."

"I have to be the Slytherin I was trained to be," Antha told him quietly. "Merlin knows the lessons the Malfoys shoved down my throat... I can at least remember some of them."

"But... You can't really think that he'd ... he'd love you any more for it, can you?"

She glanced at him as she made it to the main floor and led him towards the dungeons. "Well, it can only be a bonus. It's not for him..." She snorted, rolling her eyes. "I do nothing for him. It's more for the other Death Eaters that watch my every action, that count how many times I breathe. I'm the girl worthy enough of producing an heir..." She crinkled her nose in disgust. "They have to look up to me. They have to trust me because the Dark Lord loves me."

"So... how did you meet him? Was it just 'come into my lair' and it happened... or did you two meet properly first?"

She furrowed her brow. "That's not really that important, George... I shouldn't be talking to you at all." She opened the cellar door before she pushed him, face first, into the wall.

"Oi!" he cried as he cracked his nose. She winced at the sound, but promised she'd heal it later. "What are you doing?"

She tore at his shirt, making it fall open so his back was exposed to her. "I need you to stay still... I need to make you 188."

"What does that mean?" George demanded. "Antha-"

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. Her fingers rested on the stretch of skin between his shoulder blades. So smooth, so strong... She'd break him with this, if anything. "It's excruciatingly painful... Don't scream-"

"Antha, what is this?" George demanded, turning his head to look at her. "What are you doing?"

She met his eyes, her own filled with tears. "188. It's a brand, George... All servants are given a brand. And yours will be 188... I... I can make it last a day, until I get you out of here, but... It'll hurt like you've never felt - worse than the Cruciatus... You don't have a choice, I can't pretend to give it to you. The best I can do is make it a day long bondage." His nose was bleeding from when she had broken it from her assault just moments before, but he didn't seem to notice. "It's going to hurt... a lot."

He seemed to pale as it sunk in. "This is why you didn't want me to come with."

"I told you... I told you I'd do everything I can to protect you. This can protect you, if used right." She clutched her wand tightly, though, her hands still between his shoulder blades. "They'll respect your bind to me... They'll view it as... they can't touch you unless I allow it. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean much when you're dragged into meetings, but... it'll protect you from the straying Death Eater."

"And it won't leave?"

"The scars will remain, but the bondage... It'll go away for as long as the oath states."

"Then do it," he said bravely, turning his head away and resting his forehead against the marble wall. His hands moved so they gripped at the slim lines between the stone. "Quickly before I lose my nerve."

She tore at his shirt, transfiguring the piece of fabric into a piece of soft wood. "Bite this," she instructed, putting it between his teeth. She ran her hands over the exposed back again, watching as his muscles tensed. "I'm so sorry, George." She felt the tears in her eyes spill over as she kissed the top of his spine, inhaling his scent. Spice and chocolate. It brought her back to their years in school, working on products endlessly, her, Lee, and both twins. Those days were long over. He tensed, but she cast a numbing charm. It wouldn't work for long, but it would at least help.

It was a meticulous process. As her wand drew the one into place, she knew the numbing charm was wearing off, but she couldn't replace it for fear of disrupting the magic, and then things would turn ugly. He groaned deeply as she began the eight. "I'm sorry," she whispered quietly over and over again, though she didn't know if he could hear her. She was halfway through the first eight when he shifted, showing her just how unbearable it was.

"Almost over," she promised him. "It's almost-"

A loud groan cut her off and she hurriedly finished before starting the last eight. "The last one, George," she murmured. "It's the last one and then I can heal it."

She could see his body shaking as he struggled to stay still. His arms were taught as he gripped the stone and his jaw clenched tightly around the piece of wood. She finished the second eight quicker than the first and he relaxed slightly, but she could tell he was still in pain. "It's not over," she whispered. He dropped his head, resting it once more on the stone. She took the tip of her wand to her hand, cutting it across the palm, and held it to his wound. He winced and bit back the cry of pain. "I, Philantha Lucinda Lestrange, bind George Fabian Weasley to me for twenty four hours. With this bondage, he shall serve me as I see fit and be protected from others unless I deem them to interact with him. Upon the end of the twenty-four hours, this bondage will fade to nothingness."

And then she healed him, first. After mending his shirt, she turned him to face her and healed his nose, her palm still sliced open. "Are you okay?"

"A little worse than I expected," he said honestly. He glanced up as bells sounded. Midnight. "Your meeting's started."

"I have a few minutes," she replied quietly. She healed her hand, swallowing. "Time to go to the dungeons."

"When are we getting out of here?"

She smiled at him, a bright smile full of what she hoped was full of warmth. "Twenty four hours is what I promised your mother. No more."

He relaxed at this and she shoved him gently in the cellar. As she shut the door, the lights inside winked out, making her sigh, and then she apparated to her bedroom, to get ready for the meeting. She didn't think much about what she picked, just that it had to be revealing. So, selecting a black mid-thigh length dress, and a pair of high heels that clicked against the marble deliciously, she shut the dark wardrobe door and set to washing herself off quickly before she arrived. George's blood ran along the edge of the drain before washing away forever, her own from the bonding oath joining it. She knew, deep down, that she could have performed the bond wrong, made it permanent, but it wouldn't be too life threatening for him if that was the case. It would just make him her servant in all legalities, though the magic was forbidden. And there were plenty of cures to reverse it if that were the case.

The black dress and heals made her feel vulnerable, and with her scars standing out, she contemplated casting a glamour upon herself. In the end, she didn't. Returning to her bedroom, she spotted the sleeping figure on the bed, wrapped in blankets, looking quite warm. Salazar.

She kissed his forehead as he turned over and snuggled into the furs more, a small sigh leaving him, as sighs often do during pleasant dreams. She departed with a silent click of her bedroom door, and then headed down to the dining hall. More formal meetings had chairs.

True to her word, she made an entrance. She fluffed up her hair - the curls falling around her shoulders - before she opened the door, letting them echo off the walls with a bang. People jumped, their wands out, but when they saw her they seemed to let their guard down a little, but not fully.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't arrive."

"I was making sure I looked perfect for you, my Lord," she remarked, striding towards the empty seat at the table. She stopped, aware all eyes were on her, when she was at the Dark Lord's side. "The prisoner's wand, my dear. It's safer in your hands."

"Did he scream?"

Antha smirked, relishing the curious looks people were shooting each other as she sat in the chair, crossing her legs as she leaned forward. "No. Took it rather well, he did."

"Yes, well, let's get back to the meeting then. We can see just how well he's coping later," Voldemort smirked, deadly. He was no longer in Tom Riddle's body, but the usual snake-like form. She found he used his younger form around Salazar, perhaps to not frighten the boy, or perhaps to make Salazar trust him. Everyone trusted a pretty face. The meeting resumed, as if Antha's entrance wasn't even that memorable. Perhaps she should have tried transfiguring the portrait of Lord Jerimius Morticae Malfoy into a dead body, seen what reaction she had gotten then. Well, you give what you can.


	9. Chapter 8: Playing the Part Well

The tense-ness around the table didn't evaporate with her presence. Meetings were always tense affairs, and the possibility there was a traitor sitting amongst them? It made to having dirty looks and discreet whispering. Perhaps Antha's outfit was the cause, but she wasn't sure. But the outfit wasn't for them, it was for the Dark Lord. If she had showed up in Muggle clothing, she could just imagine the backlash.

She tuned back into the conversation when his snake appeared at the table. It coiled itself around the Dark Lord's shoulders before sliding across his lap and slithering along the table. Her breath caught in her throat as it stopped in front of her, staring with two black beady eyes.

"-and the prisoner has been made a servant of the house under Philantha's transgression. I expect the rules to be abided."

"Who is the prisoner, my Lord?" Narcissa asked, shooting the girl that reached her hand out towards the snake a nasty glare.

"George Weasley." Antha was inches from touching the snake. She had never pet Nagini before, but the snake always would curl atop her covers at night because Antha put a heating charm on them. The snake just liked the girl because of the warmth she carried around with her. Antha didn't mind though. It was better than the snake hating her. "Philantha."

Her hand jerked back, just hovering over the scales, and Nagini hissed in displeasure. Looking up, she found the Dark Lord staring at her with something akin to amusement. "My Lord?"

"I said, fetch the prisoner."

George? Merlin. Antha rose hastily, bowing to the Dark Lord, "Right away, my Lord." As she stumbled out of the room, her heart was beating fast in fear. This was the torture part. This was where she'd watch him get beaten and ... She should have prepared herself better for this. She should have expected it. She was, almost. She had warned him against him, but not warned herself. She found him sitting in the middle of the cellar, his legs hugged to his chest as he tried to keep warm. He looked up as she entered, and he scrambled to his feet. "What's going on?"

"Time for the Death Eaters to have fun with you."

"Shit," he muttered.

"Yes, shit indeed," Antha returned carefully. She took his arm before reaching his collar. "Twenty four hours. Remember that."

The only wizards capable of legimency were the Dark Lord and Severus Snape. Both weren't a danger to her, not if they found out what she had done to the bond with George. Unless the others had learned it while she was gone, they'd be safe. She thrust the doors open, interrupting whatever the Dark Lord had said. She didn't apologize, just shoved George forward, making him sprawl onto his knees, barely catching himself. The Dark Lord rose, the others rising as well before quickly seating themselves.

"How did he take the branding?" the Dark Lord asked casually.

"He cried like a baby," Antha smirked, gazing down at George as he stayed put, his hands on his thighs as he braced himself for whatever was to come. She saw a muscle twitch in his jaw that showed her he didn't appreciate her belittling him. It would only get worse. "But he didn't pass out, nor scream, so I suppose that's something."

"Of course he didn't pass out. Weasley characteristic, it seems. His mother didn't pass out either."

Merlin, Molly... I hadn't thought to ask them what torture they had gone through... They seemed fine, but... Merlin, she couldn't imagine what Molly had gone through. Her hate that had been so uncharacteristic suddenly didn't seem so out of character. She despised them for what she had gone through. The men were disgusting, no doubt raping her, and the women would torture her until she couldn't move. It was just how they treated the Order members they caught. No boundaries.

"Well, that would be more of a Prewett trait, my Lord," Antha answered.

"Indeed... Purebloods, fascinating how there can be two extremes, fighting each other." She watched as he touched George's hair, pulling his head back to look up. "What do you say, boy? Any news from the Order?"

"Nothing I'm telling you."

_Defiant was good_, she thought. It made him strong. While they loved breaking the strong, at least George could keep it up.

"Oh, spirit," Voldemort sneered. "Such a Gryffindor. Antha, you never had this spirit."

"You always say I should be sorted into Slytherin for the things I do to you, my Lord," Antha replied, shooting the Dark Lord an overly saucy wink. She saw his pale, thin lips twitch in amusement. "Tell him what you know," she spat at George, her high heeled stilletto pushed him over so that he lost his balance. He fell onto his side and she dug it into his stomach. "Now, you little in-"

"Antha, dear, please stop before you break those lovely heels," Voldemort interrupted casually. "We do things with magic here, or have you forgotten that?"

She immediately backed down, swallowing. She understood the threat underneath, and the jab. He thought she was acting too... much. She was going to be caught. "Do with him as you wish, my Lord."

"Yes... Amycus?"

Antha clenched her jaw to keep from protesting. Amycus, she knew, was in charge of punishment at Hogwarts, with his equally demented sister Alecto, but that didn't mean he sought justice. His chair scraped against the marble as he pushed it back, striding forward with a confidence that seemed to make him look younger. "My Lord?"

"Why don't you start off tonight?"

The man looked overjoyed at the offer, as overjoyed as he could possibly get, though she didn't know how much more emotion he could put onto his face before he melted from the pure emotion. It started light, the torture, and then continued for hours on end. He didn't scream at first, his eyes rolling back into his head as he bit his lip to keep the screams in. And then he bit through his lip, his blood rolling down his chin. She couldn't watch anymore, but the screams... they echoed in her skull.

Voldemort never took his eyes off of her, calling another to the center of the floor, to torture, to seriously injure... but not to kill. Voldemort made that very clear.

He had started screaming for them to stop when Lucius was granted the torturer position. He used a spell of his own invention - one she had never heard of before - that made his body twist in unnatural directions. George's eyes were squeezed shut as he tried everything he could to keep quiet, but he couldn't. It was physically impossible. "I... don't... I don't know-" George whimpered. She had to look away, towards the Dark Lord standing beside her. He was staring at her, as well.

"Make him stop," Antha whispered, though no one but him could hear her over George's scream as the spell was cast again. Voldemort slid his pale, cloak clad arm around her waist, drawing her to him. "Please..." Voldemort smirked at her, his face full of what seemed like amusement.

"Why?" he asked. "You can make them stop just as well as I."

"They'll listen to you," Antha returned. "They won't listen to me, especially in defense of the prisoner."

"Your slave, as well," he reminded her.

She glanced back at George, who was trying to brace himself for another attack. Lucius raised his wand, but Antha's voice interrupting any spell he was about to say. "Enough." Lucius immediately lowered his wand. "I don't want him to have to have my slave dead before the night's over, do I?" Lucius considered it a good enough reason, bowing before quickly scurrying back to his seat. He was terrified... for his family. Not for himself.

"I believe we're done here," Voldemort remarked, a sneer on his face as he glanced at George Weasley. "Away with all of you. Until I call another meeting." The sunlight in the dining hall windows told her that it was nearly morning. They had to have been torturing him for six hours... Merlin, he was stronger than she thought. Not even she would be able to endure this like he had.

She waited until they were gone - the Malfoys included - before she escaped Voldemort's grasp, standing before the whimpering boy. "My Lord?" George flinched at her voice, but it wasn't harsh, just soft and on the verge of begging. "I request to heal him."

"I expected as such," Voldemort remarked slowly. "I want him battered, when you're finished, but ready for another round tomorrow."

There wouldn't be a tomorrow for George here, if she had anything to say. She planned on him being safely tucked into his bed at the Burrow before anything happened. "Yes, my Lord... I trust that Salazar will be tended to if I work through breakfast."

"His injuries can wait until after breakfast." Voldemort stated boredly. "In my study. Bring Salazar."

She hid her disappointment well, glancing down at George. "And him?"

Voldemort smirked, "No food for the servant, of course. Take him to the servant quarters."

She nodded carefully, stepping towards George. The bloody man flinched as she gently touched his shoulder and she jerked her hand back immediately. "I'm-"

"Hurry up, Philantha. I won't wait all day."

"Yes, my Lord," she winced, taking George's shoulder in her grip once more, her other hand clutching his elbow as she helped him stand. He was shaky, unable to support himself, so she let him lean heavily on her. Merlin, she needed more muscle. He weighed at least fifty percent more than her, and she couldn't carry him much, but she'd have to try. The Dark Lord certainly wouldn't help.

Except, the Dark Lord was stepping closer to her, and she was about to speak when he placed a silent kiss to her cheek. "You act well."

"I've had years of practice," she remarked. He just smiled in reponse. It was a thin smile, that chilled her to her bones.

"We'll talk at breakfast," he stated. "I have much to ask."

"I'm sure you do, my Lord," she answered. When did he ever not ask something of her?

It was a slow process to get him to the servant quarters, as they were on the far side of the house, but he helped as much as he could with his shaky legs. She pushed open the empty door designated for him and gently lowered him on the cot. "Bloody hell," he groaned in pain, flinching violently. She watched, tearfully, as he folded his legs over the edge of the bed.

"You did remarkable," she whispered, her hand gently cupping his cheek. She forced him to look at her, and his blue eyes seemed to stare into her soul. "I'll be by soon to heal you... Merlin, you did spectacular," she murmured in awe. She kissed his forehead, the only portion of his body that probably wasn't injured, and held her lips there for a moment. "Eighteen hours."

He let out a shakey breath, and she knew that he had to have a terrible pain in just breathing alone. His ribs had to be cracked. "That was hell."

She leaned away, brushing her tears from her eyes. "It can only get worse before it gets better. I'll be back, okay? I'll... I'll try to have the elves sneak you some food, alright?" He nodded once, shortly, and his eyes closed in pain. She helped him onto his back, taking a small blanket from the corner and placing it over his shoulders. It may have been spring, but it was freezing. "I'll be back," she repeated quietly.

He didn't open his eyes as she left, just concentrated on his breath. She cast her wand around her, removing the blood from carrying him to his quarters, before she shut his door and made her trek to her bedroom to change. She was thankful she had insisted to Narcissa that she keep her Muggle clothing from when she was on missions in Muggle London. Her body hadn't changed much in size, if not getting smaller due to the periods of time she spent malnourished in the forest with George, so she was able to fit into her jeans and a clean t-shirt with ease, pulling her wet hair atop her head in a messy bun. Salazar was just waking as she approached him.

"Mummy!" he gasped, seeing her kneeling before him. Antha gave him a pleasant smile, hugging the little boy as he flung his arms around her, all traces of sleep gone. "When did you get here?"

"Last night," she told her son quietly, breathing in his scent. Still grassy, but a hint of rose as well. The scent of the sheets. "I didn't want to wake you."

"Where's Daddy?"

"We're going to have breakfast with him right now," Antha said, standing, and picking him up with her. "He wants to see you."

"You said he was bad," Salazar remarked as she walked slowly through the hallway, avoiding the ones with the many portraits, and instead settling for the ones with the tapestries and plaques. "But Daddy isn't... He seems really nice."

She swallowed, knowing that he would think that. "Honey, he's not as nice as he makes you think he is." The little boy seemed to remember that she had said he hurt her. "Don't make the mistake of thinking he is a good man. He is anything but." Salazar bit his lip in despair, tears welling into his eyes.

"So he's lying?"

She hated to see his heart breaking. "No, he's just not being himself yet... You'll see, soon, okay?" Hopefully not. "Now, what do you think you want for breakfast?"

The change of topic seemed to brighten him up, just as she intended. The study was the same as it had been a few hours before, the only change being the sunlight streaming through the glass windows. Her eyes winced at the first bit of sunlight she had seen for what seemed like days, and she set Salazar down quietly as Voldemort turned his head towards her. He was in his younger, more human form, now. He always seemed to be when he was around Salazar. Hiding the monster behind a pretty face, she suspected. He had done the same trick to her, long ago. "Good morning."

"Good morning," she said back, her tone with forced pleasantness.

"How is Weasley?"

"Resting," she answered stiffly. Salazar rushed to his father's side, and Voldemort eyed him coldly, before pulling the boy onto his lap. Antha watched the scene with fear she didn't bother to hide. She was waiting for the moment Voldemort had enough and murdered their son. She was waiting for him to crack. Waiting for him to... to snap and lash out with the annoying things kids did. He wasn't the type that would unwind and talk to a child about meaningless things - he wasn't that person. He murdered and laughed about it. He tortured people and got off on it.

Salazar was the child he was destined to hate, just as he would hate any other child he came across. She had seen him murder children for crying, for not being strong enough to contain themselves. She had been inches away from it, but yet he pulled Salazar onto his lap like he wasn't the most feared person in the world at the moment, and reached for a silver platter with a top over it. "I've requested all of our favorites. Do sit, Antha. You'll exhaust yourself standing."

She obeyed, more out of curiosity than anything. What was he up to? Her seat was the same it had been hours before, and she stared at the Dark Lord, anxiety mounting. Merlin, what was he going to do? "You wished to ask something of me, my Lord," she reminded him.

"Ah, yes..." His gaze traveled to the boy on his lap, who's fingers were picking up pieces of bacon off of the plate beside him. "Did you know he likes to play with the elves?" Salazar didn't seem to be able to hear him, so she answered, her eyes drifting to Salazar.

"Yes, they amuse him," she returned. "I've introduced him to a few elves over the years. He was nearly raised by one for a month or so while I figured out living arrangements."

"Andromeda must not have known, then."

"I used a Hogsmeade trip to go to her cottage and explain the situation," Antha returned. "Salazar had been staying in an orphanage at the time, while I paid for them to take care of him-"

Voldemort's eyes flashed angrilly to her. "He was in an orphanage?"

She swallowed. "I was allowed to visit every weekend, and I made sure he was well taken care of-"

"How old was he?"

"Not even a month," she responded sharply. "He doesn't remember, and you didn't seem to care much to find him, either. It was 'eternal life' this and 'fabulous Death Eaters' that. You forced me to make that decision. A hard decision, yes, but it had to be done."

Voldemort sneered at her in an attempt to make her step down, but she wouldn't. How dare he pin all of this on her? He needed to take the responsibility too. "My, someone's going to get punished for that."

"You need to grow up and start to realize that the environment you surround yourself in isn't fit for a child, no matter what the age," she spat harshly. Salazar looked up from his bacon in surprise. "He's just a boy, and you are a horrid man that wishes nothing more than to kill the only family he's ever known."

"And who's fault is that?"

"Yours," she said bitterly. "You started this petty revenge group before I was even born."

"Oh, you know very well what I mean," he shot back. "You were the one that used my love for you against me-"

"Did you expect me to come back groveling?" she shot, standing. "Did you expect me to beg for you to forgive me? That you'd be given any of your feelings? I will never-" He rose suddenly, cutting her off. Salazar was deposited into his chair and he stalked forward, grabbing Philantha's wrist. The woman silenced immediately, but her gaze, full of hate, rested on him.

"Not in front of the children, my dear-"

"I will never love you," she spoke through gritted teeth. "I don't care who hears that. Never will I return your affection. Love hurts, sweetheart. And that's a lesson you need to learn. It doesn't make you weak, it makes you stronger. And you need to experience the heartbreak to understand that."

"You will love me," he spat. "You'll love me or your precious Weasley dies."

She smirked, "Fall in love with you? That's a bit of a stretch, dear. More like, fall into the deepest pit of hell."

Quicker than she could react, his hand sharply hit her cheek, causing it to sting like a bitch. "Do not talk back to me." She glanced away, her hand over her cheek and rubbing it gently. It hurt, yes, but her pride hurt the most. She didn't expect to be hit in front of her child, who was staring at her with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry, my Lord," she said in a calm voice, jaw clenching to hold back her anger. "'Twill not happen again. I do wish to express my opinion, however."

"Please do," he sneered.

"You wouldn't treat me as you do Bella," she said slowly, turning to face him, "if you loved me. You've been merciful, these past few times we've met, but you would not treat me as though I will obey your every whim just because you express your love to me. I've never done that, so I don't understand why you expect me to now." She swallowed as he didn't respond. "You fell in love with me because I disobeyed you, because I made you think and amused you, and you loved my witty remarks. That's why you fell in love with me, not because I bent down to your every wish. That is my mother, not me."

"I do not love Bella."

She nodded, her point made. "Then treat me as you wouldn't treat her." Antha pulled from his grasp as he pulled that over and she rubbed her forearm carefully.

"Mummy?" She met Salazar's eyes, seeing them filled with tears. "Why did Daddy hurt you?" She let out a quiet sigh of frustration, not even glancing at Voldemort. "Are you alright?" He slid off of the Master's seat and rushed to his mother's side. Antha crouched down, letting Salazar put his hands on her cheeks to look at her properly.

"I'm fine," she insisted quietly. "Don't cry," she murmured, wiping the tears from his eyes. "I just made Daddy angry is all-"

"He hit you!" Salazar pointed out stubbornly, his hand tracing the slap mark, and then her scars. "Did he make grandma do this to your face?"

She didn't want to lie, but he looked so heartbroken. He looked so betrayed. "He-" She hesitated, but the choice was taken from her.

"Bellatrix did what she wished with the weapon she was given," Voldemort's voice drifted out. Salazar winced in fear and his hands fell to his sides. Antha slowly let go of his sides and gave him a weak smile.

"See? I'm fine."

"He hurt you," Salazar said with a wobble in his voice.

"He does that," she said as though it were no big deal. She had told him that the Dark Lord did that, but he didn't seem to truly grasp it... Not until this moment. "Now, let's have breakfast, alright? I could use a nice glass of orange juice and toast." She watched as Salazar took the destraction as easily as before and nodded once.

"Okay," he murmured. He went back to the chair to finish his plate, and Antha rose to her height, nearly the same as the Dark Lord in her heels.

She turned to the Dark Lord, but he wasn't looking at her face, just her feet. "I trust you'll get rid of your Muggle clothing."

She rolled her eyes, "Of course not." She moved towards her chair, sitting quietly. "I'd rather piss you off with my attire than wear the sluttiest dress England has ever sewn."

The Dark Lord, when she inclined her head towards him, didn't seem to find this amusing. "You think you dress in a... dishonorable manner."

"I know I do," she returned with a small twitch of her lips as he seemed confused by her thinking. "I see how they stare at my legs, or my face... Merlin knows how long they stare at my chest before I catch them. And then there's the whole thing about which man makes a bet over me next. Who will the Dark Lord lend her to for punishment next? Rowle? Dolohov? They make it a game, and they plan out exactly what they'll do to me... Sometimes they even make it a promise if I run into them in the hall, telling me exactly what it shall be. All because I'm a young woman in this manor with a hundred men who's victims are all either dead or unwilling - though why they think I'd be willing is beyond me - until I realize, it must be the way I dress. I must be suggesting something." She smirked at him. "When it's not me that suggests anything. It's you desiring me to look the most desirable because you want to be able to eye-fu-" She stopped herself as she glanced at Salazar, who looked confused.

"You get the idea. So, yes, I do dress like a slut because you ask it of me. And they believe that because I obey your wish, I am granting them the ability to take certain liberties. Just because I dress in some way does not mean that I am a slut. It doesn't even mean I want to dress like that." She cleared her throat. "Well, sometimes I do when I feel like being in a certain pleasing mood to some eyes. But the years with the Order have led me to want to be ... conservative, I suppose. I don't want my chest nearly exposed, or my legs bare to the world. But I do it anyway and it makes me feel dirty, but you request it so I do it, because I don't want to piss you off in front of everyone, nor do I want to look like the kind people they're murdering in their beds. So I wear that dress or those heels and I grin and I bear it because that's who I am. A toy that can be told what to do because I'm not in the position to fight back. I have people to worry about and people I love that have the sword hanging above their heads, and I have to protect them, so the only way I can think of doing that is to give you what you want." She let out a deep breath, not expecting to go off in the way she had. To rant like some mad woman. She flushed and dropped her gaze to the platter of food sitting on the desk. "My apologies, my Lord."

"I told you to speak freely, I suppose that is my consequence for it," he spoke lightly. He moved towards his chair, picking up Salazar and placing the boy on his lap. "Very well. I'll take you... _opinion_ into consideration."

She laughed to herself, "No, you won't, but I suppose the thought counts." She glanced at the platter once more before taking a single plate for herself and selecting a few pieces of toast. Just as she was about to reach for a glass, Voldemort's hand grabbed it and began to pour Orange Juice. "I was about to use that-" she protested, but he placed it on the table in front of her hand, a smirk tugging his lips.

"You were saying?"

"Why are you different?" she inquired. "Why are you... different around him?"

"I need as many supporters as I can get," he spoke as though it was obvious. So, in otherwords, he was going to brainwash his own son. By the way Salazar looked tense and didn't look up from his plate, Antha knew that he didn't win his son over... not yet, anyways. She knew he could at any moment with a few kind words and a piece of chocolate. She took the glass and inspected it for a second before sipping from its contents. "What is the Order planning?"

She looked away from him, and she knew he would know she was lying, but he didn't seem to care. "I... You know I shouldn't tell you this stuff. You know I have an oath that prevents me from telling you this."

"Then tell me what they're not doing," Voldemort said with a brilliant curl of his lip. She grinned back, leaning forward as she placed her glass back onto the edge of his desk.

"Well... They aren't going to work on reinstating the Ministry to their side. They aren't going to be attempting to force Snape to resign as Headmaster." She smiled at him. "They won't be expecting an army of Death Eaters and all your alliances to attack Hogwarts, where Harry Potter will no doubt find your last horcrux. They won't be expecting any of that."

"So he has found my horcruxes," Voldemort murmured. "I had suspected... Felt it, even, but I didn't know for sure."

She kept up telling him of lies, things that weren't the truth, and he could deduce the rest from there. By the time her orange juice had grown warm, the clock was signaling ten. She rose, glancing at Salazar worriedly from his new spot by the fire, playing Wizard Chess with a quite nervous house elf. "I should tend to 188, my Lord," she spoke quietly. She was dismissed with a single nod and she darted through the halls to get to George as quickly as possible.

The man she had vowed to save was shivering in his room, the thin blanket doing nothing to help him in his state. He jerked when the cell door opened and she shut it quietly behind her, wincing at the squeal that erupted from the hinges despite her trying to be gentle. George stared at her with wide eyes but seemed to calm down as she placed a soft hand on his cheek. "Sixteen," she whispered by way of greeting.

He jerked from her grasp to let out a painful gasp, doubling over as he dry heaved. "What's wrong?" she demanded. "What got worse?"

"Nothing," he said almost too quickly. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but the wild look in his eyes begged her to drop it. She did. "What can you heal?"

"Everything," she whispered quietly. She started on his ribs, her fingers gentle as they brushed against the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling for anything that was broken. While skele-gro would have been more effective, there were enough dark spells to heal broken bones. He let out a low groan as she almost lost her balance, her elbow jabbing into his stomach. Looking down, she saw what she had slipped on - blood. She healed all of his wounds, then, making sure she got every last one. None, however, seemed to be the cause of the blood.

"George, you need to tell me what happened while I was gone," she whispered, her fingers carressing his healed cheekbones. He would be sore, but he didn't wince at the light pressure like before. "Something happened." She knew it did, he was... his eyes flickered to the door, and a brief spasm of fear darted through them, before he cleared his throat.

"Rats," he answered in a croaky voice. "Giant rats."

There were no rats in the servant quarters - just the cellar. Lucius was sure of that. No one lived in less than pristine conditions if they were residents - even slaves. "Are you sure?"

He clenched his jaw, letting her know without words he was lying. "Positive."

"I can stay here for a while," she told him, biting her lip gently. "I shouldn't be expected until lunch." He scooted over as she laid next to him and they stared at the ceiling, their breathing the only conversation in the room as she pondered where they could escape... when... and not have the blame on her. "I don't know when to get you out," she admitted. "They want another meeting with you tonight... It will be before midnight, so maybe I can get you out afterwards, claim accidental magic apparated you - twin power is stronger than a single child's... Salazar will be more difficult, but-"

"Is he alright?" George asked.

"Hmm?" she asked, confused.

"That's why we're here, for ... Salazar. Is he alright?"

"He's fine," she answered. "He, uh... he's happy to see me..." George turned his head to look at her, to _really_look at her since she returned from breakfast. "A little upset, but-"

"What happened to your face?"

"You know what happened," she said sharper than she intended, her jaw clenching. "Mother."

"No, not that... the hand print. Who hit you?"

"It's a slap," she corrected simply. "It's nothing. I ... I said things I shouldn't have."

"That's no excuse to touch you." George sat up carefully, turning on his side to cup her cheek. "Honestly, Antha, we need to get out of here."

She stared up into his blue eyes, her heart pounding. "I do what he says and I'm rewarded," she responded. "Rewards are good here. Rewards are... rewards are very much desired. We need as much favor for you as I can get. And if that means having lunch and dinner at the Dark Lord's side, and having to play house and ..." she winced. "I'll do it, because then I can get you out safely."

He kissed her nose before she could blink, and then pulled away. "Your son is first, Antha. I'll survive, but you need to get him out first."

She knew he was right, knew he was strong, but she shook her head. "We're all getting out together. I'm not leaving either of you behind." But she knew, if she had to make a choice, which she'd chose, and George knew as well. He didn't fault her for it, how could he? He knew she'd chose her son over him, just as she knew it. It was the sensible thing to do, after all. He was more important and the Dark Lord's heir. He was the one that would be trained in the Dark Arts if he were to stay. So George nodded, in agreement, though they both knew it wasn't agreement at all, and she laid quietly beside him until an elf came to collect her for lunch.


	10. Chapter 9: Seconds of Solace

In the corner of the home, Philantha stood outside of her wardrobe, searching for something the Dark Lord wanted her to wear - something she knew he'd ask her to wear. But all of her old dresses were gone. All of the strapless, thigh high dresses that glittered like the Muggle girls she had seen in the pubs, were gone. Her Muggle clothing was neatly folded at the bottom, burried under more moderately sized heels, but her other clothes - the dresses - were gone.

In their stead hung colors upon colors of strapped gowns that covered her cleavage, and fell down her legs, to above her knee - in some cases, to her ankles. A more conservative wardrobe. A more ... mother appropriate wardrobe, without being oudated in the fashion world. Things she liked and would wear time and time again.

"I don't understand," she murmured quietly, flicking through them all, trying to find something the Dark Lord would like.

"You asked, and I made sure you received," a voice stated simply from her doorway. She glanced towards the noise, seeing the Dark Lord in his usual serpent form, Salazar no where in sight. "I don't want my love to feel dirty or ... uncomfortable."

She felt her lips twitch at the notion - she'd be uncomfortable here no matter what, anyway - but nodded her thanks. "They're beautiful." And they were. Designer, costing more than a thousand galleons on some - custom made, hand sewn. Something even she couldn't have purchased on her own. She doubted he purchased them either, but stole them. "When did this come about?" She made a sweeping gesture over the wardrobe and the Dark Lord let out a light shrug.

"I ventured into Muggle London today," he announced, stepping into the room and shutting the door. "After breakfast. While you were lounging with the prisoner, I found styles you described." _And stole_, she wanted to add on, but didn't.

"You went to Muggle London?" she asked, surprised.

"I did," he admitted as though it were natural. He walked towards the foot of her bed, gazing at it a moment, before facing her as she stared at him, her heart thudding with fear and apprehension. "Why so fearful?"

"Last you were in here," she admitted carefully, "before I left, was not the most pleasant of times... So, I'm terrified, to be honest." Terrified of him. "What do you want?"

"Is talking so horrible?"

"We didn't talk," she spat harshly. He didn't flinch. Instead he turned his gaze to the bed and shrugged. "Where is Salazar?"

"Narcissa is taking him on a walk through the gardens," Voldemort stated stiffly. "I requested time with you for myself." She stiffened herself, swallowing hard as his red eyes stared at her once more. Of course. She nodded, shutting her wardrobe door quietly and turned to face him. Her hands were shaking, so she pressed them to her stomach and sucked in a breath. She was still deathly thin from her travels across England for Potter with George, and she felt her ribs poking into her bony fingers.

"Where do you wish me, my Lord?" Detatching herself seemed best. If she could detach herself from real life, it'd be easier to endure. It had been before.

He gazed at her lazily, thinking, before stepping towards her. "I despise how easily you fall in love with filth."

"And not those that are considered diamond?" she returned, knowing he was referring to himself. His eyes sparkled as she caught on. "That is what you mean, is it not? How I can seemingly fall in love with scum on the earth, but not love you."

Instantly, the sparkle was gone. "Seemingly?"

"I never admitted my love for George," Antha returned. "Never said I even loved George. We're friends, we've grown up together... That does not equate to love." What would he do if he knew? It was the only secret she had left from him and she didn't seem very good in keeping it. "He was there in a time when I needed someone most, and even if he didn't know why I was so upset or sad, he knew I needed someone, as did his twin, Harry, Lee, Angelina- Friends know when you need a friend. The twins are truly my best friends-"

"And yet you are willing to sacrifice everything for him."

"I'm not," she told him. "I'm willing to sacrifice everything for my son," she corrected. "For him, and him alone. George I care for as Harry cares for Weasley... I will never have another son like Salazar... George knows I'd sacrifice him in a heartbeat, if it meant Salazar's life."

"Does he?" Voldemort asked in amusement. "Does he know that?"

"Yes."

He seemed a bit surprised by her firm confirmation, but sauntered towards her, his eyes never leaving her own. "Just because you have a different wardrobe for public affairs does not mean you aren't expected to be acceptable when we meet privately." Instantly, the fear was back. Her hands tightly pressed into her stomach, to stop from heaving. "Who have you slept with since you last were with me?"

She thought of her ex-lovers, how many there were. "None," she admitted honestly. There hadn't been a single lover. She couldn't bear with the pain herself, to have them ask who her first was. She didn't want those memories of the Dark Lord leaning over her, the darkness surrounding her. "There have been none." His eyebrow lifted in surprise.

"Three years and not a single touch?" he pressed. "Surely there's been one... Weasley? A Gryffindor... Maybe a Slytherin in the hall? The caretaker at the orphanage-"

She was quick, her wand pressed to his throat in a split second, but he didn't seem alarmed, almost like he expected it. He had baited her and she had risen to it. She snarled at him, her anger overstepping her reason. "I am _not_ a slut that sleeps with every man she can for any amount of pleasure and favors... I'm _not _ that kind of woman." She stepped closer, her wand digging into his milky white skin. "I will never be that kind of woman."

Her eyes didn't falter from his own and his smirk told her everything. "You really shouldn't have pointed a wand at me, love."

And the anger was gone in a second. Before she could react, her wand was plucked from her laxing grip and she was shoved into the direction of her bed. She felt back, her breath catching in her throat, and the handsom twenty year old face of the Dark Lord was leaning over her, his dark eyes black with fury. She knew she overstepped her boundaries with the wand, she _knew _it.

"We'll be late for lunch," she whimpered as his fingers traced along her jaw. "Salazar will-"

"Shut up," he hissed. His eyes held hers for a moment and then she felt the excruciating pain of him probing her mind. She threw up mental barriers immediately, knocking him out, but she could already feel the migrane. He shoved her hands away from her forehead and pinned them above her head, staring into her eyes once more. "You fight and it'll be worse."

"Give me a lust potion later," she snapped. "I'll do it then, but I ... Please, not now..." Her bite was turning into pleading whimpers as he clutched the cloth of her shirt. "I'll spend the entire afternoon with you, just-" She swallowed. "Not right now. I-" She closed her eyes, quieting on her own as she felt the tears leak out of the side of her eyes. She couldn't stop the fear. He would do what he wanted to her, regardless of how much she begged. She kept her head turned, staring away from him as he did what he wanted. She stared at the door, making sure no one was approaching.

When he lifted off of her, her hands brushed across her face as she pulled the covers around her as she curled together in a ball, taking comfort as her knees were tucked into her arms. Tom Riddle dressed carelessly, taking as much time as he desired, and she watched as he turned to face her. Her eyes dropped immediately. She felt dirtier in these moments than the dresses ever made her.

He didn't say anything, just stood there as she lowered her head so it rested on her knees, and she rocked slightly from side to side, her eyes closed, as she tried to picture herself anywhere else - the garden, the Burrow, in Hogwarts. She wanted to be somewhere. She was safe here, but only safe from death. Everything else was allowed, otherwise. Tears leaked over again and she tried to let out a deep breath, controlling them best she could.

"You've never been so tearful."

"It's pathetic," she admitted quietly. No fight was needed. No fight was left. "Four years ago, I could get away with my age as my excuse. Now? I surrender like some French tart and... It's disgusting." She tightened her arms, taking comfort as the quilt was around her, keeping her bare body warm. "My son should not have a mother that can't fight for herself... He needs someone strong and he needs someone who-" She shook her head, brushing the tears away, but not even glancing in his direction. "You have what you want, why are you here still?"

She waited for a response, but didn't get one for several minutes. It seemed as though he was thinking about the answer deeply before he spoke. "My entire life has been devoted to the Dark Arts. Rape is the darkest of arts, and yet... any other day you can look me in the eye afterwards and spit at my feet and tell me to go to hell. This time is different."

She felt the bed dip as he sat at the far end of it, and she pulled her legs closer. He noticed. He made no move towards her. "It's different when you have a son... and if he knew... Merlin, if he knew, I hate picturing the way he'd look at me. I close my eyes and I see it. I open my eyes and it looks like it's on his face. The Order all knows... they have that look on their faces - the disappointment, the sympathy, the pity... I don't want it. I want them to help me, to... to make me normal again."

"Being your only lover, you certainly seem to not be in the Order's favor for role model student," he stated.

She winced. "You haven't been my only lover. Just the only I've had since I left."

She felt his grip on his wand tighten, though she didn't know how. She could just feel his anger. "What? While you were my Death Eater?"

"Like I said, Death Eaters were big on taking bets," she muttered. "I figured you knew... you always knew what was going on." She dared a glance up to see him staring in the distance, thinking deeply. "Most of them are dead now," she admitted.

"Who's not dead now?" Voldemort asked sharply.

His red eyes met hers suddenly and she flinched, dropping her gaze. "Dolohov, for starters. Greyback, Amycus." She shrugged lightly, staring at the pattern on the blankets. "The usual. Like I said, bets were ... common."

"They've touched you in a way I told them what not allowed," he hissed. She jerked at his anger as he flicked his wand, forcing her out of the bed. She wrapped the sheet around herself, clutching it tightly as she felt herself fold in. "If you would have said anything-" His hand gently came down on her cheek and she flinched, nearly stumbling onto the bed as she went off balance. The Dark Lord's hand immediately retracted and he closed it into a fist. "I would have murdered them on the spot."

"But not anymore," she said simply. "You would have, but not now."

"Greyback is necesary, but he will be punished severely for what he did. As will all the others. Dolohov..." He sneered the name, his eyes holding hers as he thought about some form of torture that made his lips twitch in delight. "Dolohov and Amycus will beg for death once I finish with them."

She would feel flattered, had she truly loved him, but she only felt disgust. He was making sure they didn't touch her - that only he could. He was making sure she understood that Antha only belonged to him. Like an object, a toy he possessed. "No."

He rounded on her, angrier than ever before in that last few hours. "What?"

"I said, no," she said with a small whimper, stumbling back. "They'll know I told you. I... I'd rather not get revenge... You know how I am about revenge-"

"So noble," he sneered. "Never demanding revenge because it's beneath you. News Flash, my love," he tucked a lock of her dark hair behind her ear. She dropped her gaze, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "You will never be touched under this roof by anyone but myself... And those that touch you will be punished." The venom in his eyes... The tone of his voice. It was too much.

She pushed past him, and he let her go, until she reached the bathroom. She paused in the doorway, her back turned to him, and her eyes squeezed tightly together. "I just... I don't want to have to watch my back here."

"You won't need to. I will keep a closer watch. Nagini will follow you in the halls," Voldemort spoke simply. "She will ensure you are safely able to reside here, without fear of others."

"And when I need to protect myself from you?" she asked, turning to face him, The sheet twisted around her feet, but she calmly fixed it, her eyes not leaving his. "What then? Nagini is loyal to you first."

"Why would you need protection from me?" Voldemort smirked. "It's not necessary."

She swallowed, stepping back, and her stomach churning. She was going to be sick. She thought of the dark hunger in his eyes, the way he silenced her pleas, the weight of his body on hers. She turned quickly and empty her stomach into the bowl of the toilet. Her other hand, that wasn't gripping the seat, pushed her hair back and her head swam with the nausea. Merlin, she needed to stop thinking. She was starving - a few pieces of toast wasn't enough to hold her over - and she had missed lunch because of him. She was stressed, as well. Salazar was fine, but she had to get him, and George out. She was worrying herself sick, literally.

"Why are you sick?"

She blinked back the tears, and flushed the toilet, but not moving. He was at the door now, having moved at her sudden upheaval of her stomach's contents. "I'm just stressed out, is all..." She knew the only way to alieviate it. "I have a request... You'll deny it, but it's worth a shot to ask."

"You know I can't refuse you, my dearest."

She knew that was far from the case. Antha had seen him refuse her anything many times, just because he could. She took a deep breath, though, and let it out through her lips - it calmed her nausea as well. "I wish to visit the Order this afternoon. To tell them George is fine... They're worried about them, I know that. Molly... Merlin, Molly will kill me if she knew about the brand..." She swallowed hard, looking up to meet his eyes. They were watching her with a determined gaze. "I just need them to know that I'll protect him, even if there's no going back for him. I just... Just for an hour. I just need to see them, make sure they know he's-"

"What will you tell them?" he asked. "Mission plans?"

"No, just... just check in, wellbeing..." She swallowed, standing and reaching for her toothbrush. "I knew it was a long shot, but it didn't hurt..." She turned on the sink and ran the brush under it for a second before she grabbed some toothpaste. "I just..."

"Worry," they both said at the same time. "Yes, I'm aware," Voldemort stated. She put her toothbrush in her mouth, remaining silent for a few minutes as she brushed, of which the Dark Lord said nothing either. "Antha," he spoke carefully. She faced him, her toothbrush once more under the running water to clean it off. "You wish to go to the Order."

"If you allow it, my Lord."

He turned from the bathroom, glancing at the wardrobe only briefly as she followed him out, seeing him approach the door. "I suggest you wear the dark blue dress with the silver sash. The Order would appreciate the Ravenclaw pattern, instead of Slytherin, don't you think?" She stared, wide-eyed, after him. What? She seemed to have voiced the thought aloud because he glanced at her before he walked through the doorway. "I expect you back at five. Salazar will be in my bedroom, with myself, until then."

She felt a smile creep up on her face. "My Lord... I can't thank you enough."

He smirked. "Consider it a gift, my dear. A once in a lifetime gift." She hesitated, biting her lip.

"What is the catch?" It was a valid question on her part. There was always some catch. Some string.

"What catch? This never happened," he remarked before stepping through the door and shutting it behind him with a click. She stood there a moment, expecting him to return any second and punish her for even thinking of leaving. But he didn't. She turned to the wardrobe, changing into the dress quickly, the sheet dropping in a pile at her feet. Twisting her hair up in a messy bun, she found her wand on the floor, and picked it up in her hand, the familiar wood warm under her palm.

And then she apparated to the Burrow.

She suspected that was where everyone would be and she wasn't wrong. Her arrival, however, was a surprise, so she barely made it two feet before a wand was aimed at her and she was staring down at least three members of the Order. Molly rushed forward, spotting her, and her eyes were wide, looking around. "Where's George?"

"We need to talk," Antha said carefully. "He's fine... I promise, we just... I had to come back... I only have an hour before a meeting, so it must be quick-"

"Where is he?" Molly demanded, wringing her hands in her apron in fright.

Antha hesitated, her hands still raised in surrender. "He's safe. I promise you." Molly didn't seem to trust her word, however. "He's ... he's watching over Salazar. I'll have him out in a day or two." Less than a day, but she didn't want to make promises. "I-"

"What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing," Antha insisted. "He's fine. He's a little beat up, but he's fine. I healed him, and-"

"Molly, go inside," Arthur said gently, taking his wife's shoulders. "We'll make sure she's unarmed."

"Please, I only have an hour," Antha insisted as she was disarmed. "When the hour ends I have to be back or-" She was cut off as she was yanked from her wrist and pulled towards the home.

"An hour, you have. We'll be watching you closely," Lupin warned. She didn't doubt they would.

She felt grateful for the slightly longer dress and the covering of her chest. She felt dirty and wished she would have taken a shower before she arrived, but she ran a hand through her hair subconsciously with her free hand, and was pushed, a bit rougher than she'd have liked, onto the couch.

"Why are you here?"

"The Dark Lord... asked me things," she said carefully. "He doesn't know much, most of which are lies. But I come bearing information of an attack. He'll expect Potter at Hogwarts in five weeks time." The present Order members glanced at each other in alarm. "I know we're unprepared, but... but there's not much else I could have done. He wanted sooner, in three weeks, but I talked him into building numbers first. To give you all more time to prepare." She glanced away from their eyes, towards the fire. "He has Salazar. I have to do the best I can to keep you both safe, and keep George well watched. So... this was the best I could do."

"You did great," Arthur insisted. He glanced out the window, however, like she brought company.

"They won't follow," Antha spoke as she watched him pull the curtain back in place. "He knows I'm here... He knows what I'm doing."

"You smell..." Lupin began, but stopped, his eyes widening slightly. "Antha, are you alright?"

She forced a smile, but she folded her arms in front of her to keep her sitting up straight. "I'm fine. A bit tired, and a little stressed out, but I'm fine."

"The bruises," he murmured. She dropped her gaze to see what he was looking at. Her arms were litered with purple bruises that were in the shape of the Dark Lord's hands. Dropping her gaze further she saw a dark purple, nearly red, handprint on her thigh, from where her skirt had ridden up. She pushed it down so it was covered subconsciously.

"Fine," she repeated.

"Merlin's beard, did he...?" He didn't seem to want to ask. "Antha-"

"Fine," she repeated with more force. "I'm absolutely fine. It could have been worse."

"How could it be worse than that?" Lupin growled, his eyes turning amber as his wolf got angry. The moon must have been soon.

"You didn't see me a few days," she shrugged lightly. "I'm not here for me..." She was, but not in that way. She wanted to be able to relax. "I ... I heard that Potter's at Bill's."

"Where did you hear that?" Molly demanded.

Antha met her gaze. "Rumor mill... They were spotted apparating nearby, but the cottage has strong wards on it, that not even the Death Eaters can penetrate. They're safe."

"I hope you don't mind me saying," Nymphadora spoke quietly, and Antha shifted in surprise to see her in a reclining chair, a small child clutched in her arms. "They will not stay there long."

"Since when was there a baby?" Antha murmured, confused. She glanced at Lupin, to see him blushing slightly. "You sly dog! You and her finally going to settle down, then. It's about time. I believe I won that bet."

"Bet?" Nymphadora asked, her hair a dark pink color, as though she was content where she was. The child in her arms was sleeping, his own hair a pink color. A metamophagus. The blue onesie he wore was the only indication of what gender he was. That, and the fact that there was a name written on the tag sticking out. Teddy. After Ted? Most likely.

"The twins and I," she murmured. She was distracted, though, by the peaceful rise and fall of the child's body. It had been years since Salazar was so small. The boy - Teddy - couldn't have been older than a month. His fingers were tightly clutching the blanket around him. "He's so..." She didn't know what he was. "So precious."

"He is," Tonks admitted. She shifted suddenly, drawing Lupin towards her. "He should meet his cousin."

Eyes fell on her, almost distrusting, but the baby was already being carefully passed to the Death Eater girl. She took him in her arms, familiar with the feeling. "He's so tiny," she blurted. "Salazar was never this small." And he wasn't. Salazar was a large baby, for being magically modified to grow faster than normal in the womb. He had reached the full age of nine months at just four weeks. And this child... He definitely got his father's werewolf traits.

"You're very good with kids, despite your line of work," Tonks admitted. Antha smirked but chose not to respond. She tucked the blanket away from the baby's face, seeing that he had his mother's soft features. "Antha, why are you here?"

"I told you."

"He's... He's not having you have another child, is he?"

She froze, her eyes widening. She hadn't thought... No, he wouldn't- But her expression, that of horror, was enough for Lupin to take his child back and Antha to immediately stand. "No, I-" She frowned. They hadn't, had they? Used protection. She didn't think so. She hadn't taken the potion in months, as she was on the run and didn't think much of it. But now... "No. That's-"

It was just something he'd do. "Antha?" Molly asked, her worry melting into concern for the girl.

She let out a breath, calming down. "Fine," she repeated, sitting back down. "Order things, now." She'd deal with herself later. After she freaked out. "Have you heard anything from Hogwarts? From Ginny?"

"Let's get you sorted first," Molly offered, comforting the girl despite hating her just moments ago. "There should be some potion left in the cupboard-"

Antha nodded and followed the elder woman, but she kept holding her conversation with the Order. "I know the Carrows are in charge of punishment. Snape... Snape's not a bad person. I know you all hate him for what he did to Dumbledore, but he won't harm the children. At least, not in the way the Carrows might." She glanced towards Molly has the woman handed Antha the potion. "I know you don't trust him, but I do... So what have you heard from Ginny?" She downed the potion gratefully, but felt no different. "Thank you," she admitted to Molly.

"Are you alright?" Molly pressed. "My dear, you were just raped."

"I've... I've come to terms with it, I guess," she answered quietly. "Nothing's different. It's not entirely new. I have to be fine, so I'm fine."

"Ginny hasn't been able to send us word. She visits when she can, during the holidays, but there isn't much other time," Lupin stated, cutting off whatever Molly was going to return with. She glanced at all the Order members to see them so defeated. So... torn apart.

She swallowed. "Who died?"

She honestly didn't want to know. "Ted..." Arthur cleared his throat as he glanced at Tonks.

Antha went still. "Ted's... Ted Tonks?" She felt like she had been punched in the gut. Ted had been her surrogate father for... for so many years she didn't even know the count. She couldn't think of how long.

"He went on the run with Dean Thomas and a few others recently. We discovered his body just a day or so ago."

"Oh Merlin," she murmured. She backed up a few steps until Molly's hand touched her shoulder. Antha's brain didn't connect Molly to the comforter, and instead took it as a sign of control. Antha didn't even know what happened next, but her wand was at Molly's throat and a death grip was on Molly's wrist. Antha was breathing heavily and she was staring into Molly's widening eyes. Antha scurried back as she realized what she had done. "I'm sorry. . ." She shook her head. "I need to go. I need-" She nodded. "I need to go. I have to... Merlin, I just need to leave."

Molly tried to reach for her, again, but Antha moved away and towards the door. "I'm glad... I'm glad the rest of you are safe," Antha spoke as she turned around to face them. "Protect Teddy, Tonks... Don't make..." She felt tears in her eyes. "Don't make the same mistake I did. Don't let him get away from you." She glanced at the others, spotting Fred hanging back from the others, in the darkness of the stairs. "I'll bring George back. I promise. I just need to do it at the right moment." She swallowed tightly. "I'll bring him back if it's the last thing I do." She apparated in a black cloud of mist before they could say a word in response.

She still had a half hour until she was due back, so she made her way to the prisoners. She could hear screaming in the house, someone being tortured, and then another scream, and another. It didn't alieviate her anxiety. George was waiting for her, if she could call it that. He had nothing else to do. He hadn't yet been trained in his duties.

"Hey," she murmured, slipping inside.

He nodded back and she gently touched his cheek, making him look at her. There wasn't much room in the cell, so she had him shift slightly so she could sit beside him. A scream echoed above them and George jumped slightly.

"It's..." She closed her eyes in fear. "It's Dolohov. And Greyback and Amycus. Don't worry about that." He didn't seem to relax. His eyes found hers and then he looked her over.

"I like the dress," he admitted in a whisper. She smiled carefully, her lips twitching as he gazed at her. "It's a nice change."

"Thanks," she admitted. "My request was heard, so I have a new wardrobe." She fingered a bloody hole in his jeans. "And you? I can get you new clothes-"

"What happened?" he said, his voice full of anger and something else. Concern and protectiveness. His grip was on her upper arm, near the bruises. She shifted.

"You know what happened. I'm fine... That's not why I'm here," she quickly changed the subject. "I just saw your family."

That seemed to surprise him. "You did? How?"

"I got away for an hour, with permission," she admitted. "They're fine. Tonks just had a baby... And ... And Ted's dead."

"I'm sorry."

She shook her head, glancing up at him. "It's fine... I just... I thought they'd be safe. He promised me they would be, but..."

"Andromeda?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask." She felt foolish for leaving so early and not finding out the details, but she doubted Tonks wanted to hear it, too. "Nine hours."

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about what happened?" She knew what he was referring to. Instead, Antha just shook her head and checked her watch. Ten minutes. "Antha, really... I'll kill him if he did something to you-"

"He didn't," Antha insisted. He knew she was lying though as soon as he said it. "George, it's not... it's not that bad, okay? So, just, don't worry too much about me. I'm more worried about you."

"I don't care what happens to me. I'm worried about you, so you're going to tell me what I can do-"

"You can't _do_ anything," she interrupted. "Nothing can be done by anyone. It's going to happen. Just like I told your family. It isn't new. So, just let's not talk about it, please? I don't want to think about it."

"Alright," he murmured. He let go of her arm and turned slightly, so he was staring at the wall. "I hate this."

"Hate what? It could be worse," she muttered back. He hadn't seen how bad it could be yet.

"I hate how you're hurt and I can't do anything. I hate how you're in the middle of this thing and I can't help. I hate how I'm stuck here and I can't fight the war."

"I saw Fred." She hadn't meant to blurt it like that, but he seemed surprised at the name of his twin. Yet again. "He's looking rough, but he's... he's hanging in there. He's really worried about you. I will bring you back, George. I promise. Midnight, I'll come down here-"

"How? How are we going to get me, and your son out?" George asked. "It's not going to be possible, is it?"

"I'll think of something. I'm going to-"

She was silenced with a glare from him. "You're going to get your son out. If you get me out too, it'd be too risky. Just take Salazar and leave."

"You know they'll kill you."

"I'd be dead if I left."

She shook her head, glancing at her watch. Three minutes. "I need to go... Please, George, I'll come back later. We'll make something work. I promise we will."

He just nodded, glancing back towards the wall. "Alright." She clutched his cheeks between her hands, and nodding herself, before she dashed back out the door. She would make something work. She'd polyjuice one of the other servants if she had to. She'd get him out. She had to keep her promise.


	11. Chapter 10: Breaking Trust

"You promised me!" she cried, throwing open the Dark Lord's study door with a bang. The Dark Lord didn't even jump from his seat. "How dare you, you filthy, lying bast-"

"And what did I do wrong this time, my sweet?" the Dark Lord asked lazilly, his fingers fingering through a large tome resting atop his clear desk. Antha narrowed her eyes at him in anger, and he finally looked up. She stalked towards him, waving her wand behind her haphazardly to shut the office doors. "Philantha-"

"You promised they wouldn't be touched," she hissed. He didn't seem to understand what she was saying. "Ted Tonks," she clarified. "Dead. You promised me. I'd come here with Zar and they'd be safe! You promised they'd-" The smirk on his face went lax as he comprehended her words. "They'd live," she spat. She snorted. "I should have known better than to trust your word. What did I do to disobey you, my Lord? Sleep with a member of your ranks, like you thought last time I found out something I probably shouldn't have? News flash,_ my Lord_,I have other means of learning-"

He rose so that he was towering over her form, which was leaning over the desk to look him straight in the eye. She immediately stepped back, away from his proximity. "I didn't order his death."

"Someone did," she spat. "And considering you're in charge of all the murders of the Mudbloods your Snatchers catch-"

"That was an unauthorized murder-" he reasoned. "I never-"

"I have all the rights in the world to leave right now with Salazar and George," she spoke icily. He shut up immediately, letting her speak. "I have every single right. You broke your word. I have no reason to keep mine. So, tell me, my Lord, how are we going to cover up my leave this time? Or will we finally tell them I've been a traitor all along?" She knew the latter would only hurt his reputation amongst his Death Eaters, but they couldn't keep covering up her disappearances. They both knew that. She already didn't have their undying loyalty. "Why shouldn't I?" she finished evenly, swallowing back her emotion. She could grieve for Ted later, but this was now. This was survival. "Why shouldn't I leave?"

"The safest place for you is here," he spoke. "You are safe from attacks, from the Order, from the war... You're safe from all."

She knew he was right and it was the best reason. Salazar was safest here. She was safest, even if she wasn't safe around him personally. "That doesn't seem like a good reason to overlook a death of a family member."

"I will find out who did it and let you punish them, should you deem that necessary," he spoke as though it were normal. "You have every right to be angry with me, but I had not known of this attack, nor of his death. In fact, I didn't even know my Death Eaters had discovered him."

"They found him in the woods," Antha spoke. "He was on the run with Dean and a few friends from school. I don't know why he'd leave-" She stopped. She had told them to keep searching for Salazar. And if her calculations were correct, by the time Molly sent the owl, he would have already taken to the woods, and he'd have already been killed. Oh, Merlin. _She _was the cause of his death. Her face must have twisted in horror as she stumbled back and nearly fell into the chair. She clutched the back of it to keep standing and her hand raised to her gaping mouth. "Oh my God," she whispered against her palm. "He was trying to find Salazar. He must have thought some Snatchers took him when he went to the garden or something- Took to the woods behind the house and..." She closed her eyes painfully. She killed him. She told him to keep looking. He had done just that. She pushed away from the chair and towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I need air," she choked out. She didn't know where she was going. When she blinked, her vision blurred and she nearly ran into the closed door. Her hands clutched around the doorhandle and she yanked, but it didn't open. She pulled again, frustrated. "I need to go out... I need to ... to be in the garden or... or somewhere-I-No-"

The Dark Lord's magic blocked the door from opening and he snapped his fingers, calling forth an elf. "Make sure Salazar is attended to for an hour. And tell Lucius to arrive a few hours later than scheduled. I have a meeting to call."

"Yes, my Lord," the elf bowed and then it was gone. Antha had since given up opening the door. It was no use. He wouldn't let her out.

"My Lord, I..." She didn't know how to ask. "I need air. I need to walk somewhere, I don't know-"

"And run?" he asked. "Not likely." He gestured for her to take a seat, but she didn't move. Her hand clutched the handle of the door tightly, her forehead resting against the seam. It was cool. She felt like a fever was coming on. "I want you to relax before you leave."

"I'm not going to relax," she muttered. She gripped the handle even tighter as anger poured into her. "Not until I find out whatever bastard killed Ted and properly skewer him for it. Is that understood?"

The Dark Lord hummed his affirmative and walked back towards his desk. "Then I had best call that meeting now."

She closed her eyes, the blood thirsty urge rising within her. "I want to kill them. Kill them like they killed Ted. To ... to make them suffer and to... to make them feel as worthless as they're making ever Muggleborn they kill or capture feel. I want revenge."

"We all want something we can't have. Death Eaters are not as expendable as they once were," the Dark Lord stated flatly. She didn't move from her position, but she knew he was back to his book. "But soon that will be corrected."

"Where are you looking now? Muggle penitentaries?" Antha asked bitterly. "You get no willing followers, only those driven by fear. We have five weeks until the Order expects a battle, and the same for you. You can't train someone in that time."

"It's a shame you'll be unable to partake in the training expercises," he spoke casually. "You're simply... too delicate at the moment, don't you agree?" Delicate? How?

"I can do all I could before. I just want them dead. All of your Death Eaters. You. Anything that has caused me pain the past. Anything causing me pain now-"

"Yes, as you've stated a multitude of times over the years," the Dark Lord stated. "Will you sit down?"

She turned from the door and glanced at him. He wasn't at his book, but instead staring at a few pieces of parchment, as if they were interesting. She doubted someone wrote him letters that interesting. "I will not." She fell against the door and stared at the ceiling as a new onslaught of tears entered her vision. "It's all my fault, isn't it? I decided to spy for the Order, and it's because of that you chose me to be your... _lover_. I decided I should escape, and it's because of that this was done to me. And my entire life was thrown for a loophole... My entire life is ruined. No job after the war, no home, no family." She wiped the tears away and took a deep breath. "I'll die in the war and Salazar will have no one. He'll be shunned himself - he'll be forced to go to a Muggle home to make him forget everything about me... about you."

"You sound so sure I'll lose."

"I know you will," she answered. "Potter's detroying your horcruxes. When you finally face him, you will be weaker than ever before." He glanced up at her, raising an eyebrow. "If he discovers all of them, then what? You and him will truly be equals."

"Will we?" Voldemort asked. "I have faith he will not discover them all. There are still three. One in a vault in the bottom of Gringotts. Another at Hogwarts. And Nagini. He won't discover them all."

She swallowed. A wave of fatigue rushed through her and she tried to remember the last time she slept. All morning she had been at the meeting, and then breakfast, and then her George until lunch when the Dark Lord had arrived while she changed- She stopped that train of thought and thought of before she had arrived. It had been a few hours of sleep at the Tonks house the last she had slept. She needed to sleep but she didn't think she could. She had nightmares already.

"When is the meeting?"

"It's Thursday," he reminded her. "They will be out until midnight."

She nodded, swallowing back tears. "I'd like to get some food and then go to bed... I haven't slept in what feels like days and I'm starving."

"Would you like food here or your room?"

She glanced at him as she wiped her tears away. Why was he trying to be nice to her? Why was he acting like everything in the past between them was candy and rainbows? She didn't like it. It made her feel out of her element. It was moments like this she knew he cared for her, and it scared her to death. "My room," she answered quietly. "Salazar-"

"Will stay with Narcissa for the day and then she will have him sleep with you."

She nodded. She was okay with that. "I-I don't know who I am anymore. At the Order... I attacked Molly." He glanced up sharply at that. "I almost dropped Tonks' baby... I'm not me anymore. I'm terrified. I'm stressed. I'm broken. I'm so tired all the time. And I'm sick and..." She sniffled. "I can't help it anymore. She wanted to comfort me and I almost broke her wrist and killed her-" Antha bumped her head against the door. "I've only been back for a little less than twenty four hours. Already I'm spiraling and-"

"You just need rest and food and then you'll be up to your usual standard. If you sleep now, you should be fine for the meeting."

She knew that for her plan she wouldn't be here for the meeting. "Yes, my Lord."

She turned back to the door and tried to open it. It wouldn't budge. "I will get to the bottom of Ted Tonks's death, Antha."

"It's my fault he's dead," she said quietly. "I should have just left. I shouldn't have told them Salazar was missing."

"The boy he was traveling with, Dean Thomas."

"Yes."

"He was brought as a prisoner last night."

Antha swallowed. Oh. "Was he?"

"I will question him about who captured them."

She sniffled before she could stop it and wiped at her face. "He won't answer you."

"He will answer Tom Riddle. Especially a ragid Tom Riddle that looks like he just got thrust into the dungeon because he was captured as well." Elaborate, but also true. "I only need your help for that."

"My help?" she questioned. She glanced towards him, confused. "Why my help?"

"I can't thrust myself into the dungeons alone."

"Glamours, you mean?" At his nod, she continued. "Very well, but ... but I'd appreciate it if he didn't see me."

"That can be arranged."

They walked together in silence down the hall of the Manor, Antha's arms tightly folded together and her wand clutched in her hand. She glanced around as they neared the dungeon and spotted George walking with a bucket in his hands. Chores. Voldemort noticed where she was lookiing and rolled his eyes as the red-head and Antha made eye contact. "Antha, this must be quick."

Antha looked away quickly and glanced at Tom Riddle, the young Voldemort form. She nodded, taking a deep breath. "I almost wish this were real," she muttered as she waved her wand. Bruises formed on his skin and cuts and gashes. She ran her fingers along them, smearing the fake blood. She then got to work on his clothing, transfiguring it to a Muggle fashion, before she began to rip at it and glamour it to be dirty and bloody as well. George's presence was easy to feel and she tried to ignore it as best she could. "Okay?" she asked him.

He nodded once and she gripped him by the shoulder, another by his collar, and roughly shoved him into the wall. He let out a sharp breath at the pain and she watched in satisfaction as his nose began to bleed. It would make his voice hard to distinguish.

"What the hell was that?" he hissed at Antha.

"I've been wanting to do that for almost four years," she replied. "And it'll disguise your voice." She opened the cellar door and hid in the shadows as she thrust him down.

"Fuck," he muttered, obviously still in pain as he went sprawling. She slammed the cellar door and breathed a sigh of relief, staring at the ceiling a moment as she began to hear murmured voices inside. That had felt a lot better than it should. She knew he'd punish her later for it, but instant gratification made it worth it.

"Did you just lock the Dark Lord in a cellar?" George asked carefully.

Antha felt the laughter bubble out of her. "Merlin's beard, I did, didn't I?" The laugh was obviously bordering on hysteria because she sniffled as the laughter died down and stood there a moment, evening out her breath. She glanced at George. "Six hours, Georgie." She glanced at the bucket. "I thought you had garden duty?"

He shrugged. "I was told to clean the blood out of the ballroom."

"Oh," she murmured. Of course. There would just be more blood after the Dark Lord got the info she wanted. "Ted's dead."

"I thought-"

"Exactly why there's six hours," she informed him quietly. "Word was broken, even though he claims he didn't know, so ..."

"So you locked him up?"

She gave a small smile. George had a gift for making her smile when she needed it. "Technically. He's getting information from Dean in a... friendly way."

"Your idea?"

"His," she admitted. She traced the fabric on her dress. "He's sucking up to me because of this mistake. He doesn't want me to leave, so he's doing what he can to keep me here."

"We could leave right now and he'd never know," George stated. "He'd be locked up until-"

She silenced him when she pushed off the door and reached for the handle. "I know. It would be perfect and he'd never get out without someone retreiving him."

"So let's do it," George said in an exuberant tone. "This is our chance."

"There's going to be a better chance, George. I promise," she said quietly before she thrust the door open. She cast her wand about her face so that she looked like Alecto and peered into the barely lit cellar. Dean Thomas was battered, blood seeping down a head wound. He sat huddled and she saw his arm broken at an odd angle. The bruises were hard to see in the dark shadows of the cellar on his dark skin, but she knew he had them. Voldemort was sitting beside him, waving rats away. He glanced up at her and shifted his body to tell her that he had the information. "Time to go, Mudblood," she hissed in an imitation of Alecto's Scottish brogue.

Voldemort rose carefully and she reached forward and grabbed him, shoving him out of the cellar and shutting it behind him. Immediately he transformed back into Voldemort, the glamours disappearing. The blood from his broken nose was still there and a few bruises from the small assault. She waved her wand and healed them, watching him not even flinch at the bones cracking. "I-" She hugged her arms to her, feeling exposed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"Yes, you did."

She winced. "Okay, so maybe I did. And it felt brilliant, let me just tell you. But... it does disguise your voice, so there was a reason behind it besides anger-"

He shoved her back so she was against the wall and she sucked in a breath, stilling and shutting her eyes in fear. "i could have disguised my voice, just as you did yours-"

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Please, I'm sorry-"

His hand slamming against the wall silenced her and her eyes flew open, staring up at him. Fear - that's what she felt. Fear was making her freeze, making her stop breathing. She felt terrified of him, just like she did every time they were in the same room. "I hate hurting you, but you _never_ learn," he hissed. A hiccup died in her throat as she pressed herself against the wall to try to get away from him. Oh, Merlin, George was still here. She could see him in the doorway, looking like he wanted to intervene, but he knew there wasn't anything he could really do.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "It was for effect-"

"You just said you it felt _brilliant_." He sneered down at her as he took a fistful of hair. Antha whimpered. "Later. You'll wish you took a different course of action." She didn't realize she was sobbing until he released her and she nearly fell in her attempt to scramble away from him. She dropped her gaze. "I'll have a meal sent to your room shortly."

She nodded and watched as he walked off. "Antha-" George started, reaching for her. She stepped away from him and he paused.

"I need to go," she muttering, rushing past him.

"Antha-" he tried again. She reached the bend in the hall and glanced back. "You need to get Salazar out."

She choked back a sob and nodded. "I'll get us all out."

She rushed away before he could approach her and made her way to her room where a steaming plate of all her favorites sat, as well as a potion marked with - Dreamless Sleep. How thoughtful. She ate quickly, realizing just how hungry she was, before she downed the potion. It tasted funny, despite it looking just like Dreamless Sleep Draught, and she grimaced as she pulled it away and sniffed it once more. There was a spice in it that was different. A far off bit in her memory made her feel like she recognized it, but she brushed it off and set it down before stripping into a pair of Muggle cotton pajamas and sliding under the fur covers.

They kept her warm and automatically adjusted temperature so she wouldn't get too hot in the middle of the night. As she began to drift to sleep, a familiar heavy weight joined the bed, coiling up. Nagini. The snake slithered as she gazed at it before moving a little closer. Antha swallowed the lump of fear and reached her hand out to the snake. One bite and she'd be dead.

The snake sniffed her, but seemed to recognize the scent and Antha moved her hand over its head slowly, petting the cool scales. The snake moved so she had better access and Antha wondered what it felt like - to be adored and treasured by the Dark Lord. By anyone. Antha hadn't known it. He treated Antha like a possession, a prize... not like a human being as he did Nagini. Perhaps it was because apart of himself was in Nagini. Antha didn't know.

Eventually her hand fell as she drifted off to sleep, her mind still racing and her dreams just as busy. It had not been Dreamless Sleep Potion, then.


	12. Chapter 11: Comforting the Angel

When she awoke, she was not rested in the slightests. Salazar was just entering the room, his pajamas on and his hair a wild mess. Antha sat up abruptly at the sight of him and almost forgot about the snake that was laying across the covers. Nagini gave a hiss and Antha held her breath.

"I apologize, Nagini," Antha said quietly. Her eyes flickered worriedly to her son as he ambled across the room, towards her. She didn't want him eaten alive by the snake. Not in the slightest. "Please don't... eat him," she murmured to the snake. Nagini lazily flicked her tongue and coiled up around herself tighter, refusing to budge on the covers. Salazar climbed up the side of the bed, crawling over to his mother.

"Did I wake you?"

"No, did you just have dinner?" she inquired. Her son didn't look hungry, and if he was, he would be dressed for dinner, not bed.

"Yup. Daddy and I ate with Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. They have a son, Draco. He's about your age, Mummy. Do you know him?" The boy smiled innocently up at her and she rested against the headboard, giving a small glance at the clock. Nearly ten. She had two hours. George had two hours.

"I do," Antha allowed. "He's two years younger than me. Did you talk to him?"

"No, he was quiet..." Salazar bit his lip, as though thinking hard. "I tried to, but he wasn't very nice... I don't think he wanted to talk to me."

"He's just upset," Antha said quietly. Draco... Could Draco...? She could ask. "He's not able to go to school this year. He misses Hogwarts, is all."

It was a bit of the truth. The boy really was just fearing for his life. "Oh," Salazar said quietly. He settled under the covers and glanced at Nagini. He giggled suddenly, a boyish giggle only a child could possess. "Hey, Nagini."

She hissed softly and Antha's heart clenched when he hissed back. Parseltongue. Wonderful. She supposed she should have expected it. All of Salazar Slytherin's heirs spoke Parseltongue. All of them. But hearing him speak it... it just seemed so much more real. When would the Dark Lord arrive? When he had spared her from the encounter in the hall... she thought he'd be in her room by now. He'd visit her. Maybe after the meeting?

"I'm going to take a bath, honey. Go to sleep," Antha stated. Salazar nodded and cuddled in the sheets. She shot Nagini a look of contempt, but the snake was already asleep once more. She wouldn't hurt Salazar, she knew that. Voldemort had her well controlled. She took a quick bath, barely having enough time for her muscles to relax, before she dressed into a black dress and donned a pair of heels. But she quickly took them off and carried them down the hall with her, leaving her bedroom door open a crack. She needed to find Draco.

She knocked hesitantly on the Slytherin Prince's bedroom door and there was silence for a moment. She almost thought it was empty, and just as she was about to turn and check the library, the door opened. Draco stood there with dark bags under his eyes and his hair not the neatly combed blonde she was used to. "Can I come in?" she asked hesitantly.

"The Dark Lord's going to think-"

"Then he should know better than to assume that about me," Antha returned just as quickly.

He gave a reluctant sigh but let her through. His room was the same as he always remembered. The blankets on his bed were made - meaning he hadn't slept in them for quite some time. The color - a deep blue - contrasted against his skin perfectly. She wished her room was as spectacular. Bookshelf upon bookshelf lined one wall, the moonlight shining through a large window that opened to a balcony - much like her own room. She saw that the conjoining bathroom had hair products filling the countertop and it was so uniquely Draco that she let out a small squeak that was supposed to be a laugh.

"What do you want?"

She sat down on the edge of his bed. "Do you remember the summer I had Salazar?" Surprised by her abrupt question, he nodded slowly, making his way to the desk chair. She was silent as it scraped across the floor. Then it was set down in front of her and he sat. "Riddle Manor. . . Every Riddle had been born there since the Riddle line began... except for the Dark Lord." She hugged her arms to herself, glad that she smelt like herself. Not like _him_. "That's why Salazar was born there. He wanted to make up for a lost generation... And that bloody potion." She met Draco's eyes. "You got me out."

"You went to St. Mungo's-"

"That was after," Antha interrupted quietly. "You showed up and you _knew_. You knew I was ... Salazar was born and I was determined to leave. You _knew_."

"It wasn't that difficult."

She hiccuped unexpectedly. "Sorry... I took a Dreamless Sleep Draught last night." He raised an eyebrow. "At least, I thought it was... It wasn't..." She chewed on her lip as there was silence.

"He's making you have another child."

"I didn't notice," she admitted. "I thought it was just a flavored draught, but... I went to bed and... I had this dream- nightmare, really." She swallowed, brushing her hair out of her face. Her wrist bumped against her scars and she felt the slightly raised skin. She hated them. "And I could taste the potion and I realize... it's the same as the one before." She sniffled. "No choice. He didn't even say he wanted another but it was no mistake-" She bit her lip to keep from sobbing outright. "I need to get Salazar out of here, Draco."

"Obviously, Lestrange." There was silence as they both thought. "How do you know you're pregnant?"

"Has the Dark Lord ever _not_ gotten me pregnant after he beds me?" Antha asked quietly. "Sixth year, right after he came back, it took two days. And... all it took was yesterday. Or earlier today. It depends on how you look at it."

"Then how are you getting Salazar out?"

"You got us out before," Antha admitted. "You know... you know how to get out. You took me to the Burrow wards and-" She bit her lip. "The dead of night and Molly found me and took me in without a bat of the eye and within minutes I was being transferred to Andromeda's home - Salazar to an orphanage for a month. And then I carved my own arm out hollow to get the Mark off and..." She stared at Draco as he paled. "Can you do it again? It's not just me and Salazar. I need to get George, too-"

"I can't get all three of you-"

She expected that. "You can get Salazar out. I can... I can get George."

"He'll kill me," Draco murmured. "You know that."

She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, setting her heels down and pulling her knees to her chest. "I know. I'm trying to think of something. Apparate him to the Burrow or... I don't know. Nagini's in there with Zar and..." She looked up at Draco, but he was thinking hard. "If Nagini sees you, he'll know it was you."

"When do you want him out by?" Draco asked.

She didn't know. She had to get George, first, and that could take a while. It could take longer than midnight, if she had to go to the meeting. "I'll let you know. I'm not sure yet."

"And the baby now."

She buried her face in her knees, a sob leaving her. "I don't know. It's my child. It's Salazar's sibling... I just don't know how much I can take!" She stared at him. "Do you remember when I was pregnant with Salazar? The prenatal potions were my life. All I could do was sleep. I don't want that again... I don't know if my body can handle that again." He nodded carefully. "I'm terrified, Draco... Absolutely terrified. This child will be just as condemned as the last, once this war is over..." She wiped her tears away. "So what can I do? Nothing. I'm powerless."

"No, you're not," Draco disagreed. "You have more power than I do. More power than most of the Death Eaters. You _sway_ the Dark Lord. We all know it. When he's angry, he goes to you and I have a pretty good guess what happens, but ... but you say something to him then, and it just stops things that would usually happen before you arrived. He tortured Amycus and Dolohov for a long time... and Greyback... Merlin, my father was sent to torture him for even longer. And..." He shook his head. "It was because of you. Because they touched you and he was absolutely furious."

She looked away. "You're saying what he does to me is justified because he treats everyone else better."

"I'm not saying it's justified at all, but it calms his mood down, for some reason. You do." Draco sighed. "I've been doing some research."

"Research?" she questioned. "For whom?"

His lips twitched. "The Order."

She exhaled and let out a small laugh. "Good. And?"

"I've recruited eighteen new members to them." She nodded, relieved slightly. "Mother's one of them. She'll be gone in three nights. The Order has arranged passage to Andromeda Tonks home, where she will seek refuge."

"Good," Antha nodded quietly. "And the others?"

"Mostly DA members... I got access to the list of members and while most of them are at Hogwarts, I managed to get in touch with them. They agreed to join the Order. They said they already fought for it."

Antha nodded, "Good. This is great. It means they're getting stronger."

"The Dark Lord mentioned five weeks." She swallowed, nodding. "You better have that baby before then."

"Oh, Merlin," she murmured. It was a good point. If she didn't, she'd be too pregnant not to fight. He probably wouldn't let her fight anyway. He'd send his Death Eaters, but force her to stay. He wouldn't give her a chance to turn on them. "Zar was only around four weeks. We have five weeks today, don't we? It's the end of March and..." She tried to do math. "The beginning of May he'll attack, then? He's confirmed this."

"The few minutes of the meeting you missed last night."

"Of course," she murmured. "It's something I'm not supposed to know, then. He never caught me up on that." She let her legs fall and watched the blonde man before. "What about you? How are you?"

"Watching my back," he admitted. "All letters and documents are charmed. I can't go to Hogwarts - I can't go anywhere except where the Dark Lord says." He let out a chuckle, but it was hollow, like he wasn't used to it. "Is this what it feels like? To be a double agent?"

"Must be," Antha admitted. "At least the Dark Lord knows where my loyalty is... I don't have to skirt around anything. I'm rather blunt... But if you ever want to talk, I'll probably be here longer than I'm planning on."

He was about to reply when an elf appeared suddenly in between the two. "Barby is sorry, Master, Miss. Barby was sent to get Miss. The Dark Lord is looking for Miss."

Antha swallowed hard and moved to put her heels on, her eyes remaining on Draco for a second. "Stay strong," he winked, getting up from his seat and moving towards his desk. It was enough to make Antha a little more confident. She rose from the edge of the bed and took the elf's hand, letting him apparate her to the Dark Lord's room.

It had been a while since she had physically been in here. The mirror call just two days ago was a taste of the darkness the room contained. The walls were a dark color, the bed a black and the floor a deep cherry wood, like blood. The Dark Lord wasn't there and the elf left with a squeak. Merlin, why wasn't he here?

She approached the placement of the mirror and peered into it, seeing her own reflection. And a glimmer of something.

"Fred-" an unmistakable voice cried. "Don't you dare go to Bill-"

Molly. Molly Weasley? But the connection... It wasn't existing anymore. He terminated the... he had to. She saw her own reflection. She had two days ago. Hearing Molly's voice made her throat ache and she fell heavily into the chair in front of the vanity. Had he been... spying on the Order? On her? Her fingers reached out and touched the glass. Solid. It was solid - it wasn't a trick.

"Mum, if Harry's-"

"No, you can't leave. We have to wait for Antha and George-"

"I can't just wait! I've been waiting! George-" Fred seemed so close to tears it made Antha's own well up. "Antha would have brought George back already. It's almost midnight. Twenty-four hours is almost up. Something's wrong and I'm not going to sit around. I need to do something. I can't go to the shop so... I should go to Fred."

They were giving up? She still had an hour until midnight! She had plenty of time!

"Fred, please, just wait until midnight," Molly whispered. She was so close to the mirror. Antha stood from her seat, backing away from it. She had to get George out. She had to do it now. The Dark Lord could wait. He could wait-

She halted as she ran into a solid object. A whimper left her lips and she closed her eyes. In front of the Death Eaters, she had to be strong. In front of him alone, she wasn't strong in the slightest. All she had was words, and he had the power.

He had arrived.


	13. Chapter 12: Breaking the Dove's Cage

"You've been spying on them," Antha whispered quietly, not moving an inch otherwise. "They have no idea. No clue."

"I know Potter is at the Weasley house - near the coast. I also know that the twins reside in an apartment resting above their shop." She felt her jaw tremble at the inevitable vulnerability. Of course he knew. "I can't hear their meetings, but I can hear conversations. I know where many live. I know who is on their side, and who is not. And I know where Order members are seeking refuge - right under my own nose. Hogwarts."

"Nose?" she said before she could stop herself. A snort left her. "What nose?"

"Amusing," he stated flatly.

There was a moment of silence as Molly shouted to her son once more. The other twin. The only twin with everything still intact. George had lost a lot in just a day.

"I... I know what potion you gave me," she said quietly.

"I thought you might." He seemed particularly pleased with her approaching the topic first. "I'm afraid, however, that we have to be sure that you truly are pregnant."

She knew this was coming. She let out a breath through her nose and kept her eyes shut tightly. "Of course, my Lord. Anything for you, my Lord."

"Do you want the Order to see?"

She shook her head, her heart skipping a beat. "Please, my Lord. No." He grabbed her arm. His fingers tightened and Antha swallowed hard. "I-I'd appreciate it if-"

"Fred!" Molly's shout broke off, interrupting her and making Antha shake in shame. "Get back here! Fred!"

"They believe you're rescueing Weasley by midnight. Why is that?" Antha didn't answer. The sound of the Burrow door opening and Molly sobbing. It was too much. A sob left Antha as well and she was turned abruptly to face the Dark Lord. "So afraid," he murmured.

"We don't need to go again," Antha insisted, her eyes still squeezed shut. "A simple spell will tell you. Please... please, let's not. I'm sorry for earlier. I'm so sorry-" She mashed her lips together in an attempt to keep quiet. She did not want to beg. After a few breaths she continued. "I'm sorry."

"If I don't punish you, you will never learn," he murmured to her, his lips touching her ear. She stiffened, but kept her eyes closed. "Will you?"

"I know you're superior to me, my Lord," she whispered. "I know that. There's no need to punish me. I obey you, do I not? I do what you say." She opened her eyes and met his own. His handsome face was distorted by her tears, but he was Tom Riddle in that moment. He always seemed to be. He wanted her to have a personal relationship with that face, as well as his son. His other face was for business and his followers. "Who murdered Ted?"

There was a pause as his jaw clenched. "Fenrir Greyback and his band of Snatchers. Scabior-"

"I know who," Antha interrupted. Fenrir Greyback. The one man she couldn't murder because of his involvement with the werewolf packs. Of course. That was just her luck. She pulled out of his grasp and was surprised when he let her. She turned and approached the mirror. "And I can't do anything. I can't torture him because if I did, he'd know why. He'd know it was because of Ted." She glanced back at the Dark Lord, her fear being replaced with anger. "And I want him _dead_. I protect my family... I protect my friends. I protect those I love and when I can't-" She snarled and grabbed a crystal vase from the vanity, throwing it towards him. A causal flick of his wand caused it to go off course and crash into the wall behind him, splintering across the ground upon impact. Another spell went her way, but she stepped away from it. He didn't seem to want to attack. "Ted Tonks is dead and you made me a promise!"

"We've already been over this, Philantha."

"He's not coming back," she hissed. "Andromeda-Merlin, Dora and-" She shook her head. "I want to see the light leave Greyback's eyes, do you know that? I want to be the one to do it, and it scares me to death. I can't protect anyone. I can't even protect my son! I spent his entire life promising to keep him away from here and... and he's here! And I spent months upon months giving him to another woman to take care of so I could do whatever it took to protect Harry and... And I thought with me on the run, I'd be gone and you'd focus so much on trying to find me that you'd leave everyone else alone. And I thank Merlin every fucking day because I wasn't at Bill and Fleur's wedding. And if I was?" She let out a sound between a sob and a laugh. "I would have been here a lot faster than I was. And now... Now I have this baby inside of me and-" She grabbed another vase and chucked it at him. "And I want you dead. I want Harry to kill you. I want to _dance on your grave_." He snarled. "But I can't because with you gone that means I have no protection. And it makes me sick to think that you're the only one that can offer me that."

"Does it really?" Voldemort said with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"It does," Antha said sharply. "Because what are you? A pathetic excuse of a person that uses his wand to make up for the size of his dick." He didn't find this amusing. "And I can't even take a step into the hall without your bloody snake following me. And you are spying on the Order with this bloody mirror and I can't protect them! I can't protect myself! I can't protect George. For all I know, he's dying. I can't heal his injuries and seeing and hearing Molly so broken... so-" She sobbed before she could stop it and wiped her tears from her face angrily. "So upset over him, it tears me apart because it's my fault George is here! I made her a promise and... and I can't keep it! I promised them it'd be quick. I promised it'd be in and out. I'd get Zar, I'd leave. I promised George would be hurt minimally, but-but-" She grabbed another glass object. Colognes, potions, whatever she could find. She threw this one at the Dark Lord as well. "And it feels so good to get my anger out. And you have no idea how much I just want to hit you back like you hit me. I want to make you feel as worthless as you make me feel. And I never will-"

"Who's to say you already haven't?" he shot back, his anger matching hers. "Who's to say I don't feel like-"

"Like nothing?" she finished when he stopped himself, seeming to realize what he was doing. Showing vulnerability. "Is that why you do it? Why you torture me so? Why you beat me and why you let others beat me for you? Why you bed me like I'm willing and are surprised when I recoil from you like you're the bloody Dark Lord? It's because you feel so inadequate with me that you have to make up for it and it's pathetic-"

"Pathetic?" he repeated in a snarl.

"I've told you already," she snapped. "I will _never_ love you. I will _always_ fear you and be repulsed by you and I don't care how many empty promises or how many-"

"Then how are you so sure I love you?" he shot back. "How are you so positive that I only keep you around because I love you?"

"That stunt today with Dean, for starters," she answered. "And that's probably the only reason." His eyes flashed. "Because you don't give me anything else- No freedom, no affection. I'm starving here. And it's not like the buffet presented before me is edible, either!"

"So letting you visit the Order was nothing?" he snapped. "Letting you take Weasley under your own brand- Letting him live? What about your return after _so many fucking chances_. You would be murdered if you were anyone else. If you want holding hands and long walks in the park, you shouldn't be here!"

"I can't leave!" she cried. "That's what I'm trying to say! Maybe I should be murdered instead? Would that make you happier? It would certainly make me happy!"

"Is that what you really want?"

"Yes!" she cried. "I'd rather be dead than be treated like your whore! Everyone sees it, everyone thinks it. I feel it. And I loathe it." She gave a dark chuckle, feeling so much unlike herself. So emotional and so honest. "What do you think I see when I look in the mirror?" Her hand waved behind her to the mirror. "What do you think I have to look at every day knowing what you've seen and done to me? I look in that mirror and I see years and years of self-loathing. I see years upon years of someone that's changed so much she doesn't even know who she is anymore. And I'm terrified all the bloody time. I told you I attacked Molly. I don't even know what goes on in my head anymore. Someone grabs me and I think it's you. I'm sleeping and I wake up and my wand is at their throat and- Someone enters a room and I think it's a Death Eater and I'm terrified all the bloody time. Not just for me, but for Salazar. For this child and-" She sat in the chair, her hands going to her hair as if a battle was raging in her head. "Who am I? Do you even know my favorite color?"

"No," he admitted.

"Green," she said quietly. "I love the color green. Not Slytherin green, not emerald... just green. It doesn't matter what shade. Nature, life - it's all green. Do you know my favorite song?"

"No," he said again.

"All Along the Watchtower," she said after a moment. "The Jimi Hendrix version. Ted used to play it all the time in the house... On that record player he could never stray too far from." She stared at the ground, where the crystal shards were, liquid amongst them from the cologne bottle she had thrown. "My favorite cousin?"

"No."

"It was always Draco. I love Tonks, don't get me wrong, but I could always relate to Draco. A boy forced to make all the wrong choices. A boy that had to listen his parents. I was a girl whose mother was insane and she drove her daughter to insanity, as well." She let out a heartbroken sob. "I am insane. Sometimes I think I've been driven to the brink of insanity. And then I realize... I'm not. I'm broken. You've finally done it. You've finally broken me. And it only took a day. It took less than a day. Ted, George... Salazar. All in one day and ... and I've given up the fight..." She shook her head, wiping the tears away. "Give yourself a round of applause. Do you know why I asked you those questions?"

"No."

"Why did you fall in love with me? What did you fall in love with? My looks? I'm a far cry from pretty now. My mother made sure of that." She was quiet, as if she expected an answer, but she didn't. "I know why... and I let it happen because I wanted to spare Pansy Parkinson. I didn't know her, I didn't... I didn't like her in school... she was just like every other Pureblood Slytherin. Ignorant because of what their parents tell them. But I couldn't let her be your lover because I didn't want her to be broken. I wanted her to survive and she is. Maybe it was selfish, maybe it was selfless. I wanted to be a spy that people could remember, long after I died - because I will die in the war. If you die or you don't. I didn't want her to lose her spite. I didn't want her to break." She wiped at her face again, her scares pressing against her hand. "Why do you love me? I don't understand at all. No one loves me. No one cares for me. So why do you?"

"More people love you than you think," he said finally. "Salazar? Your Weasleys?" She let out a sob at that. "Me." She looked away and to her lap. She couldn't even look in his direction. "I fell in love with you the moment you met me. Bricyt. The picnic. It was all simple then, wasn't it? You made me feel like a child - in a good way. I felt young."

"You didn't care what I felt?"

"Perhaps I'm not capable of love," he agreed. "Maybe I don't care what you feel, maybe I do."

"If you did, why am I here? Why am I ... I treated like this?"

"Reputations must be kept up. Perhaps you and I will never have a mutual relationship, but I like to think we do. Maybe you don't love me, but I can make you try by ruining everyone else's love for you."

"Don't touch George," she said before she could stop it. "Don't kill him."

"You love him."

"I never said that," she snapped.

"You don't have to."

"I don't love, George." Her voice was strong and she glanced up to meet his eyes. He was still in Tom Riddle form. "I've given up making promises to people, because they never last. I try to keep them, but they always are broken. Maybe it's my fault. Maybe it's yours. Maybe it Molly's or maybe it's George's-Maybe it's Dumbledore's. But I'm done making promises. So I can't promise George my love, I can't promise my love to you, I can't promise it to Frankie First-year down the road. I can't promise it to anyone, not even my own son, because everyone I love gets hurt. Everyone I care for dies. I don't love George. But we're friends and that's enough for me to want to protect him."

"George Weasley loves you. It's all he thinks about. It's all he can think while he's here. When I talked to that boy in the dungeons and we ran into your Weasley, I went into his mind. You. Your hair. Your smile. Your laugh." He gave a laugh that was on the verge of mania. "You. He's in love with you. And maybe you aren't in love with him, but you're certainly close."

"He's not my Weasley. None of them are. They hate me, but they pity me too much to throw me away." She gave a bitter smile and glanced away from him again. "Don't you?"

"All the time." She nodded as if that proved something. "I'm the cause of it. I enjoy making you terrified. It's a thrill. It takes so little. Just my presence makes your heart race in fear. Just me getting angry both elates and terrifies you. You love me angry-"

"You're more predictable when you're angry," she admitted. "When we have a pleasant conversation, it's more terrifying. Yesterday, when I brought George... we were almost flirting, it was such a pleasant conversation. And as I took my bath tonight, I thought to myself, that's what makes you think I love you, isn't it? When I'm pleasant. When I can make a joke and you laugh - even though you don't laugh physically. They do amuse you. And you like that. You like it when I can laugh in your presence, or relax. And on the inside, I'm praying I don't misstep a word, say something I shouldn't, and then you're angry. And once you're angry, I have to keep you angry until I can find a good way to escape. And even when I escape I'm not safe. There's no such thing as safe anymore. There hasn't been for over _three_ years. Salazar? There's no place for him after the war. Maybe I'll move to France, take him to Beaubatons... Maybe Durmstrang, where there won't be strong discrimination. Most Death Eater children go there now."

"That does not mean they're welcome," Voldemort stated. "Who's to say my son won't be."

"You know you won't win!" she insisted. "You know it. Yet you keep fighting! You murder my family and my friends and ... you expect me to comply like it's nothing! And your children... What then? I'm left to pick up the pieces - if I'm even left! I have to prove to the entire world that they're nothing like you. And I have to - to go through the slurs and the articles and the cruel words they throw into my children's faces and I have to tell them about a father they can barely remember and about you did to the world. About how you ruined their lives. And no one will ever look past that and see my children for who they are. They will only see their parents. They'll only see you and me. The Dark Lord and his oh so willing whore."

"Of course."

"And this is why I can't love you!" she cried, rising. She took a few steps towards him, but didn't dare get closer. "You don't care! You don't care about Salazar, or me. You care about yourself and that's all. Your perfect plan for a perfect society. That's all you care for. Is it not?" She cast a tempus charm and the time floated in front of her. "It's ten-thirty. I have hour to get George out. An hour. And... I do it because I'm willing to die for someone. I'm willing to sacrifice things to show them I care. Even if it means I'll never be welcome back to them."

"I care for you."

"No, you don't," Antha spat. "You think you do. But you don't care for me at all. You appreciate my company because I'm forced to appreciate yours." There was silence as they stared at each other and Antha realized how far she had gone. She felt her eyes widen as her sense came back to her and she backed up quickly. She fell into the chair and a sob left her. "I'm sorry."

He just stared at her as she breathed in uneven patterns, her back pressed to the back of the chair that was turned to face him.

"Antha."

It was not his voice. His lips did not move, his body made no acknowledgement of talking to her. It was coming from behind her. The voice of a woman that had lost too much in a war too big for her to handle. Antha let out a breath of pain and stood slowly, hesitating before turning around. She could almost see her reflection in the glass. Her eyes a swollen red and her cheeks flushed. But her attention wasn't focused on that for more than a second. The frazzled red haired woman, two red haired men behind her, was. Plump, always bright and cheery, Molly Weasley looked defeated and pale. Her fingers were gripped tightly in front of her, pale as she held a small rag - a dish rag. They must have just finished dessert. Fred Weasley was to her left, his eyes darting between Antha and the Dark Lord, pale as his mother, his red hair hanging in his face. He looked almost afraid. And Arthur... Arthur's face killed her the most. So disappointed. So ... done.

Antha backed up in despair and a sob left her lips.

"You can't bring George back?" Fred. His voice so hopeful she'll say she can. So hopeful.

"I-" The words died in Antha's throat. She couldn't lie. "I'm working on it." Her fingers dug into the wood of the chair as she faltered under their falling expressions. "I'm working on it," she repeated quietly. She surged forward suddenly, her eyes level with Molly as she stood inches from the glass. The red haired woman didn't jump, like Antha expected. "I promised you. I won't break it. You'll have him back. It may take weeks, it may take hours, but he'll be in your hands again." A squeak left her lips as she was grabbed on the arm and she was propelled back as the Dark Lord pulled her away. "Let go of me!" she cried. She struggled again, but this time his grip was less willing to release her. "Not in front of them," she pleaded. "Not in front of them."

"I think you went a little far to ask for favors, don't you?"

A hiccup left her as he turned her to face him and shoved her against one of the four posts of his bed. It ground into her back and she nearly stumbled, one of her heels falling off. She turned her head away from him, her eyes squeezed shut and a sob leaving her lips. His papery hands slid up her thigh and she tried to breathe normally, but a hiccup left her again. "Not in front of them," she whimpered. She tried to squirm but he grabbed her chin and squeezed harder than necessary until her jaw was forced open.

"Shut up or it will be worse." He let go of her jaw and she turned to look at him just as his palm slammed on her cheek. She gasped in pain and her eyes turned to the mirror, where Arthur was trying to pull Molly away, but Fred was frozen and Molly... Molly was sobbing openly, her hands over her face as she refused to move. "You've already saved them," Voldemort snarled. "Show them what you're sacrificing for their safety."

"I knew what I was sacrificing," she snarled. "Not in front of them."

"Tough."

"Molly-"

"I'm not leaving her alone!" she heard Molly shout. "I'm not leaving you alone."

It just brought more tears and the Dark Lord tore at her dress and she sobbed as he entered her roughly. Her back dug into the edge of the post and she knew it would leave bruises. He'd leave bruises. But as he began to kiss along her collarbone, she turned her head to the side. She had gone through it enough to understand that fighting would just make it worse. She couldn't help how her body reacted. Antha was weeping openly and when he was finished with her, her body betraying her, he took a step away from her and Antha reached for her wand on the floor, fixing her dress before she glanced at the mirror. They were still there, not looking, but obviously in distress. The Dark Lord reached for her-

"Don't fucking touch me," she snarled. She exhaled sharply and the Dark Lord wisely didn't. "I loathe you. I loathe you so much that I want to take Harry's spot." She approched the mirror and sniffled in shame. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry-"

"My Lady?" She turned in surprise to see an elf cowering just a few feet from her. "There is something wrong with 188."

"George?" she demanded, her heart seizing in fear. "What's wrong-?"

"Miss must come with Clam. 188 is very hurt-"

She turned back to the mirror. She stared at the fearful family before she grabbed the chair behind her and used all of her force to slam it into the mirror. It shattered on impact and she watched as the faces of the Weasley family staring wide-eyed at her was frozen forever in the glass. The glass pieces fell onto the top of the vanity, but she wasted no time on it. She grabbed the elf and let it apparate her to George.


	14. Chapter 13: Saving Grace

Prisoners weren't to die unless allowed. Servants weren't allowed to die unless their master ordered it. Antha had no intentions to ever order his death. So seeing George pale and passed out on the ground of his small room. He was dressed in the same thing as before, and he had obviously been going to rest for the night - unless he was waiting for her. And he was moaning in pain.

"Clam doesn't know what to do, Miss! Clam doesn't know what's wrong."

"Bring me ..." she knelt beside the fallen Weasley. He was alive. She quickly tugged his shirt off, seeing the 188 of his brand pulsating and throbbing as it swelled up. "I'm here, George. I need ice, and towels... And get Draco Malfoy. Bring him immediately."

"Yes, my Lady."

She gently touched George's cheek as she made sure he was on his stomach. "It's okay," she murmured. "I'm here, George. I'm going to make it alright. It's going to be alright."

"Hurts. Merlin's balls." His eyes opened and he strained to look back at her. "You have bruises again-"

"I'm fine. I'm more worried about you," she said for the second time that day. "What's wrong? What hurts?"

"About five minutes ago, I felt funny. I tried to go to the door but I just passed out." He groaned as she gently touched the brand. "What's wrong with you?"

"Remember that mirror?" she asked him as she cast a numbing charm on his back. He groaned as he nodded. It wasn't working too quickly, but it was numbing slowly. That was better than nothing. "The Dark Lord activated it to the Burrow and your mother... he raped me in front of your mother."

"I'll bloody kill him," George spat, but his threat died in another groan. "Bloody hell... You alright?"

"I'm fine for now. We need to get you fixed up. I don't know why this isn't ... why is this messed up?" She cleared her throat as she tried to think. "It's almost midnight. An hour, maybe. If midnight strikes and your brand isn't lifted, your bond to me, you can die."

"Bloody hell," he muttered. "Of course. Why does this always happen to me? I'm the unlucky twin."

"My other servants died because of the brand, George. Something about my magic rebelling. I don't truly want them as slaves, and my reluctant magic makes their brand rebel-" She needed Draco. "I didn't know how to fix it back then."

"And you do now?"

"I've seen Dolohov do it," Antha admitted. "He started to grow fond of a Muggleborn and he tried to free her."

"Did it work?" George asked. His eyes were squeezed shut. Sweat tangled with his ginger hair and he had a small cut on his cheek as well as healing bruises from earlier. He still felt pain. Meaning the pain was too great for a numbing charm.

"Yes." He relaxed slightly under her. "But the Dark Lord killed her minutes later because of Dolohov wanting to run away with her. He had betrayed the Dark Lord, so-"

"Wonderful," George muttered. "Does this mean I die?"

"Not if we're careful," Antha said in a breathy laugh.

"Do you know how to do it, though?"

She swallowed. "Not really, but it's worth a shot."

"You better not kill me."

"No promises," she said quietly. He heard and groaned. She cast a tempus charm. 23:02. She had time. "You don't have a weak stomach, do you?"

"I lost my bloody ear, and made a joke about it. What do you think?"

"Okay," she murmured. She ran her fingers through his hair in what she hoped was calming. Antha looked up as a crack sounded and the elf was back with the materials she requested, Draco standing there as well. "Wonderful." She took the towels and placed them on the cot beside her before taking the ice from the metal bowl and placing it on George's back. Draco was staring wide eyed at the scene. "Draco, I need you to keep George still. Can you do that?"

"Fucking ferret better not-"

"He's going to save your life," Antha snapped. "He'll be touching you if I say he will." She pressed the ice to the swelling and nodded to the elf. "I'll need more ice and more towels. Draco, hold his shoulders. Oh, and Clam, get a dagger. Preferably my mother's basilisk dagger. It will seal the wound clean."

"Yes, my Lady." The elf apparated in an instant, obviously still too concerned for the ginger boy. Antha took a deep breath.

"What are you going to do?" Draco asked.

"Redo the brand," Antha said quietly. "Only, instead of making it a bond to me, I'm making it a bond to himself." The elf was back immediately and she took the dagger while Draco took the other items. The ice was melting fast on George's skin and she didn't know if that was a good or bad thing. Was he numb? "Okay, George, this is going to hurt, alright? I need you to breath. Breathe." He did so. "There you go. Good. Now, bite my hand, okay? It's soft, you won't bite your tongue."

"What-?"

She stradled George's back and nodded to Draco. The blonde boy held George's shoulder's firmly and Antha charmed the ice to stay on the eights as she pressed the dagger to the one. Her free hand was pressed against George's lips and he cried out as the dagger pierced his skin. "Bite my hand!" she ordered. He did so and she winced at the pain, but it was distracting from the emotional whirlwind she was in. Draco hardly struggled with keeping George still, and the dagger slid smoothly over the previous scarring of the one. Clam took a towel and began to clean up the blood that was already pooling out. Antha took a deep breath and gripped her wand, setting the dagger down. "Humorous Legento."

A billowing black cloud began to seep from the wound, and Clam retracted his hands from the wound in fright. As soon as it stopped, the towel was once more taking the blood away. "Reducto!" Antha said calmly. The black cloud dispersed immediately and she set her wand down, grabbing the dagger. "Okay, the eights won't hurt as much, George. I'm sorry. It's going to be alright." George groaned and bit down harder on her hand as the dagger began to dig along the smooth edges of the brand. "Almost done," she murmured to herself. "Almost."

The last eight was the quickest and she did the same banishing spell to the magic before she cleaned the wound with the help of Clam, the remaining towels soon soaked up.

"Do you still feel weak?"

"No, but if you don't heal it soon, I might pass out." She let out a shakey breath which was supposed to be a laugh and did as he requested. Once the wounds sealed over and the blood was wiped up, Clam squeaked and took Draco away and Antha let out a sigh of relief as George slowly sat up, letting Antha move to sit on the edge of his cot. "Bloody hell."

"It really was," she admitted. He chuckled at that. "Do you feel woosy? Anything like what's going on is still hurting?"

"No... No, I think it's fine."

"It's not done," she admitted quietly. She took the wand and let the dagger clatter on the cement floor. George stiffened, but let Antha press her wand to the skin. "George Fabian Weasley follows no one but himself."

"Of course not," George chuckled. He moved to join her and winced slightly at the muscles straining on his back.

"I thought you were dead," Antha admitted. "I saw you just laying there and... bloody hell. I thought you weren't going to make it."

"Me too, for a minute. I didn't think anyone would fine me."

"Clam is a very loyal elf to me. He was present in Riddle Manor when I delivered Salazar. I like him quite a lot."

"Competition, have I?"

She swallowed. "You can't joke about that. The Dark Lord... Hecan't think you like me, George. Okay?"

"I thought you liked me back-"

"I do-" she winced. "Just ... don't think about it, okay? Don't think about me. Don't think about us. Don't think about it. He can get into your mind and see that." George looked at her. "He knows how you feel for me. But he can't think I feel anything for you." She looked away, towards the ground he had been lying on. Some of his blood was pooled there. A quick wave of her wand and it was gone. "Do you understand?"

"You're changing."

Tears pooled in her eyes. "I know."

"Did he really... in front of Mum?"

"I sort of shouted a bit... threw a few things at him..." She bit her lip as she remembered the argument. "I think they heard the argument. It was mostly about getting you free, actually... sort of. And how I might not be able to tonight... And... and I'm pregnant, George." Her voice cracked and she took a quick breath as she straightened up. She had to stay strong in front of him. "He gave me the potion a few hours ago... and..." She bit her lip as she tried to figure out what to say. What could she say? "I'm bloody terrified. Another kid? I can't even properly care for Salazar."

"So we can't leave because of that?"

She shook her head. "We can, but he knows... He has Nagini follow me in the halls. I can't involve the elves, they can only be trusted as far as I can throw them... Clam isn't very ... he's a lovely elf, but I don't think he'd get us all out. And I don't want to risk his involvement." He took her hand and held it tightly. "So... Different plan. I can do a different plan." She tightened her grip. "We're too young for this war, George."

"You're telling me. I'm crippled and my bones creak when I get up in the morning." She snorted at his attempt to humor her. "My vision blurs and I'm bloody tired all the time. Don't know if I'm aging faster or if the war is speeding up time."

She giggled before she could stop herself. "It's not just you. I might need a walker after this."

"I might need to be bed-ridden," he muttered as he flopped onto the bed. Antha moved out of the way before he knocked into her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Her smile faltered a bit before she nodded, messing with the skirt of her dress. "Fine... As usual."

"But he broke his word-"

"It was Greyback," Antha interrupted. "And since it was Greyback, I can't retaliate... Because it would be known why. Greyback is the Death Eater's only alpha werewolf. They need his pack, and I won't be given access to torture him because no one but his group of Snatchers knows of Ted's death - besides the Order. And if I were to attack him, torture ... kill him... him and snatchers would call me out as an Order sympathizer. So he gets away with it."

"But... you can't just-"

"I have to," Antha admitted. "Maybe when the five weeks are up, I'll get my chance. But... In five weeks at the attack on Hogwarts, I fear I'll have to fight for the Death Eaters and that scares me. Because all my friends, everyone is going to think what side I'm on-"

"What if we vouch for you? Harry, me, mum-"

"That won't forgive me of my crimes," she said quietly. "If your heart starts to hurt, you begin to feel sluggish or like you have the flu, I need you to let me know. Don't try to brave it out because it could kill you." She took his face in her hands and her eyes met his, both of hers shining with tears. "Okay? George?"

"I understand."

She released him after a moment, certain he did understand. Another tempus charm and she saw that only twenty minutes had passed. A half hour until midnight. "You terrify me. You don't, but I'm terrified for you."

"You said you fixed it-"

"I know, but... I just worry about you a lot."

"And I worry about you." His hands reached forward and clasped her wrists. He turned them and Antha dropped her gaze to see purple bruises. "He's hurting you."

"You honestly couldn't have expected lollypops and hugs and kisses under the oak trees," Antha told him as though he was insane. She pulled from his grasp gently. "I know he'll hurt me. He already has. It's no surprise, George. He's the Dark Lord. I certainly never thought he was a sheep going into this. That's why I insisted you stay with Molly... You wouldn't be here. You wouldn't be in danger too."

"Bullshit," he said sharply. "Being in this war puts me in danger."

"You're right," she conceeded. She picked up her mother's dagger and bannished it with a wave of her wand. There was silence and Antha didn't know for how long, but it was long enough for George to groan. "Are you all right?"

"My head hurts a little."

"Anything else?"

He winced. "Stomach."

Antha cursed and clasped her hands together, thinking. "Maybe an infection? I don't know! Um... think, Antha!" She only had so much time until the twenty-four hours was up. "Dolohov, Greyback. I can't take you to them. They both want me for very dishonorable reasons. I could-I could try to overlook it but I don't to die. And Merlin- What if-"

"Antha, breathe. Because this really is starting to hurt."

He was losing color. His hands went to his skull and he cradled it. The sweat from his fever earlier, and the strain he was under, was returning. A fever then. Infection was possible. "Um-" She waved her hands as she tried to think, pacing slightly. "I could take you to someone but... God, the cost would be so much. You could die when he sees you... I-" She put her own face in her hands, thinking as quickly as she could. Taking George there could get him killed - or helped. She needed to plead a good case. "Merlin, okay... He'll probably kill you. I could be killed for begging-He's probably our only chance..."

"Who?" George asked quietly, his hands firmly against his skull.

Antha pressed her hand to his forehead suddenly, feeling the heat. Definite fever. "What do you feel?" she asked.

"Migrane... Who is it, Antha? I'll go to him, just-" He suppressed a groan. "It hurts so much-"

Tears gathered in Antha's eyes as she ran her hand through his hair, trying to relax him. "Riddle," she said softly. "Tom Riddle."

"Anyone but him," George said immediately. "I won't owe him any favors."

"He owes me a favor," Antha said quietly. "It's only option, George, or you die. I can't get to Severus- He probably doesn't even know it. Hogwarts will take too long to contact. Dolohov won't help me. And Greyback won't either. But the Dark Lord _is _smart... He can save you, but... I don't know if he will... If he can't..."

"I'm not going to die in bloody agony."

She let out a shakey breath. "I know, I know." She tangled her fingers in his hair and kissed his forehead.

"He'll kill me, Antha."

"I know," Antha said quietly against his warm skin. "I was so sure... I swore I got everything. Molly's going to kill me."

"If he doesn't kill me right away, but he doesn't heal me... I want you to be the one to do it," George murmured. "I want you to end it before it gets too bad."

"I can't do that-" Antha protested.

"I'm not letting me die screaming. I'd rather go with the label of a victim, than some bloody punching bag that was toyed with with dark magic. You know how they treat dark magic victims-"

Antha did know. Cremated and then dumped in a Ministry crypt with every other victim. No burial next to a family crypt. It was considered a dishonorable way to die - being an experiment. War wounds - spells cast in the heat of a duel - were different. This wouldn't be considered a war wound. No ancient house of Weasley burial.

"It won't come to that," Antha promised. "I promise... I'll be right next to you the entire time."

"Merlin's beard," he muttered, his face crumbling in pain. "Ahh!" One arm went to his midsection and Antha snapped her fingers.

Clam appeared immediately. "Where's the Dark Lord?" she demanded sharply. "Where is he?"

"In his study, Miss!" Clam squeaked. "He left his room- he's very angry-His room is in shreds after he tore it apart, Miss. It's-"

"Wonderful," Antha murmured. Angry Dark Lord wasn't a fun Dark Lord. Nor cooperative. "Is he alone?"

"Yes, Miss."

She ran her hand through George's hair once more, but he didn't seem to register it. The pain was getting worse. "George, what do you rank the pain?"

"Seven," he said immediately.

"Alright, can you walk?"

"No."

At least he was sure. Antha turned to the small elf and let out a small breath. "Can you apparate us to the hall in front of the study?"

Clam hesitated, but nodded. "Is 188 dying, Miss?"

"Yes," Antha said carefully. "Please, can you apparate us there now?"

"Of course, Miss." Clam approached and she took George's hand carefully and deposited it in Clam's own hand before taking the small elf's other. He apparated without warning and George groaned as he lost his balance and nearly fell but Antha quickly caught him and seated him gently on the ground, his back to the door, just a foot away.

"Thank you, Clam. I appreciate it." The elf bowed and apparated quickly. She knelt beside George, exhaling. "Okay, I need you to stay here while I talk to him... I'll keep the door open, but a disillusionment charm so no one stumbles across you." He nodded, groaning. "And a silencing."

She did both before knocking on the door. Three sharp raps and the Dark Lord knew who it was. There was silence on the other end and she feared that perhaps he wasn't here. Antha stood there with her hands clenched together and pressed against her mouth as she tried to control her breathing. She had to put her anger with him aside. She had to put it to the back burner so she could help George. George was more important. He was always more important.

"Come in." She shot one last glance in the direction of George and did as requested. She opened the door and knew that this was going to be her last chance to beg for anything. There were no more free passes for betraying him. This was it. Her last go at getting her way. It had better work soon.


	15. Chapter 14: Begging the Devil

If he was surprised she was there, he didn't show it. His hands filed through pieces of parchment on his desk and he didn't look up when she entered. She only took a few steps in and glanced at the clock on the mantle. Thirteen minutes. "It's late," he observed quietly.

"I'm offering a trade," she began, forcing her fear to the back of her throat. She had to put George first. George was always first. Petty fear for the Dark Lord was nothing.

"A trade?" the Dark Lord returned, glancing up from the parchment in confusion. "I was under the impression you hated me and wanted to take Potter's place."

She swallowed, walking a bit closer to him. "I apologize... I was out of line. I've been running on just a few hours of sleep, barely any food, and a six hour meeting and torture session - and apparating back and forth - and Ted... I just... It's no excuse," she concluded firmly. She approached his desk and gently placed her hands along the cherry wood. So much like blood - like George's blood. "A trade. I'll overlook your broken promise, if you'll give me a different one."

"If this has to do with your Weasley, the answer is no." He dropped his gaze to his parchment, before he could see the spasm of pain on her expression. "What disease has he contracted this time? Scarlet fever?"

"Please... Please, Tom, he's dying. I'll... I'll do _anything_. Anything at all if you..." She faltered when he looked up sharply. She swallowed, trying to figure out what she had done. Anything? Maybe. "If you want me in your bed every night, I'll be there. If you wish for Salazar to be trained in the Dark Arts, I'll give you the wand to train him, the books for him to learn-" She hesitated. "I'll forget about Ted's promise in exchange for this one. Please, save him. He has to be healthy and he -please, I apologize for any time I've ever... ever asked for anything out of line. If you want me to love you, I will learn to love you." She tapped her fingers against the cherry wood gently. "I take anything I've asked for back. Please... please save him. I can't break my promise to Molly. She'll have my head if he dies..." She leaned back and looked towards the mantle. Twelve. "I have twelve minutes until the ... the whatever it is can kill him." She dropped her head and tears spilled over. "I beg of you... I mean, I don't know what I mean anymore. I don't want to trip over my words. I just... I can't live knowing he's dead and I don't know what to do-"

"Anything?" She didn't answer, but she heard him rise and the pieces of parchment fell on the desk. As she stood there, waiting for him to continue, but instead felt a paper smooth hand touch her chin gently. Her gaze was brought up to the worried, yet distant eyes of the Dark Lord. Of Tom Riddle. He wanted her to like this face - wanted her to be comfortable around it. Wanted her to love him. "You'll do anything?" he repeated.

She focused on her breathing. On taking a breath in and out, making her lungs take in the oxygen she needed. She knew she'd regret it, months and months - maybe years - down the road. Building barriers against him, distancing herself from him, building an immunity. She would throw it all away in an instant. She'd throw everything away for George if it meant he'd live. The Order, her friends, her own family. George was the only goal she had. And he needed to be alive. "Anything," she promised emotionally. His hand dropped from her chin and she dropped her head again. "George needs to live... He has to live."

"And the repercussions, should I let him live, when my followers find out?" he questioned.

"We can fake his death. I'll grab a Muggle - murder them myself if I must. If you want me to torture them, I will. Polyjuice potion or - or something. Make them look like George. Present his body to the Death Eaters if I must... I'll kill them with my own wand, let it be marked in the Ministry's books. I'll clean up all loose ends, but I need... I need your help, Tom. Please, help me... Please, help him."

"Why?" Voldemort snorted. She looked up. He wasn't taking her sincerity to heart. "Why should I help him?" He glanced at the door where George was, hidden with the spellwork. Antha followed his gaze, thinking. She had been denying this moment since she was here. She had been denying her feelings aloud to the Dark Lord because she knew what the repercussions would be. She knew what any sort of previous relationship with George would do. But it didn't matter.

"I love him," Antha admitted quietly. He didn't seem surprised by her admission. "I love him more than my own life, my Lord. I'd... I'd risk everything for him - everything but Salazar. Please... Please, I swear on my life, I swear on my _magic_, I'll do anything you ask of me." She wiped at the tears in her eyes. "You're my last hope. My last chance. This is my last request of you, I promise it. I can't go to anyone else. You're the only person that can fix this. In ten minutes. I have full faith in you, but I need you to help... I need it... I'm so terrified and confused - I never thought I'd be here, but at the same time I never thought what would happen if I wasn't. I _need_ you."

His jaw ticked. Either in anger or surprise, she didn't know. But the truth was, she did need him and he knew it. Antha couldn't recall a time where she had ever _needed _him. Not sexually, she had never needed him sexually, but she needed his help - his support - his something. She needed him to do this. "I don't see the benefit for me."

"Me and Salazar and this child. You get us. You get me however you want, whenever you want, whereever you want. I will be willing... I will fall in love with you, if you want. I will, I promise. I just need this. This is all I need. Maybe the Order will hate me, thinking their son's dead, but that's alright. I'd rather they hate me. It'd make this whole Death Eater thing a lot easier."

"And he's in the hall?"

She nodded, not knowing if she should be hopeful with his location or not. Nine minutes. She turned from the table and quickly walked to the hall, glancing around to make sure no one was watching before she murmured, "Finite Incantatum." George seemed to be on the verge of consciousness, groaning quite loudly. Antha knelt beside him, not caring what it looked like, and ran her fingers through his ginger hair, damp with sweat. "He has this fever," she murmured to the Dark Lord that had followed. "And a fierce headache. He gave it a seven, when it first started, so I'd imagine it's gotten worse. And I don't think his pain scales too off. He has been tortured by your followers." Antha cupped George's cheeks as his blue eyes opened.

"Will you... keep your promise?" George murmured, his voice as weak as he looked and his voice hoarse as though he had been screaming for hours.

"I won't kill you until I run out of options," she promised the ginger. "I won't do that." She began to speak to the Dark Lord, her eyes never faltering from George's form. "He-He had a stomach ache, too... And he can't walk-" George's head began to loll and his eyes fluttered shut. Her heart pounded in fear. "George, don't you dare fall asleep. Don't-Don't leave, George. I need you to stay with me. Please." She had never felt so hopeless. Eight minutes.

"Bring him inside before the others in here hear you," Voldemort snapped suddenly. Antha's head snapped up to look at the Dark Lord, to see his jaw clenched and on the verge of snapping in anger. Was he going to help? "I can't heal in the middle of the hall."

She didn't think she'd ever felt so releived in her life. A breath left her in surprise and she wanted to reach for him and hug him, but that wasn't something they did. "Merlin... Thank you so much. Thank you." She felt a fresh wave of tears come to her eyes, these of joy. She quickly levitated George into the study and the Dark Lord shut the doors before he gestured for Antha to put the Weasley twin on the sofa in front of the fire. "What did you try?"

"I cut open the brand, banished the dark magic... I bound him to himself. Seven minutes until 11:59, and that's when the brand ends... I-I don't know. I used the basilisk dagger to make sure there was no infection, but-" A groan left George, and she moved so that she was out of the Dark Lord's way as she stood at his head, hanging on the armrest. Her fingers dug in his damp hair. "But he was fine for a few minutes, and then this. I don't know." She carressed George's cheek, her fingers skimming his missing ear. "Please, tell me you can fix it. That you can reverse it." His wand was casting diagnostic spells, George's eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling as he groaned in pain yet again. Antha ran her fingers in his hair once more, hoping it was some comfort. "I've seen you remove it, before... On that mother when I first joined..." The Muggle would have died before she had her baby... It would have killed her and the baby... As she remembered, the Dark Lord doing what he could to keep a child to raise completely in the Dark Arts - an experiment - the child had died in his mother's arm... She was with child the next day. That child... the baby he was going to use, was going to be the heir, and then he took matters into his own hands. "I've seen Dolohov do it too... I know I have gotten rid of the brand, but what's wrong? You'd know better than anyone what happened-"

"You're right, I would." Hesitantly, as if George's red hair would burn him, the Dark Lord placed a pale hand upon the ginger's forehead. He hummed to himself and George groaned, as if in agony. Antha didn't know what to do. Was it because he touched George or because George was getting worse. "He's unconscious now." Good. Less pain would be felt. "His thoughts are easy to access."

Antha knew then that the pain was from having his memory searched. "I said help him, not go through his memories," she stated boldly. Her fingers dug into George's hair.

"I do what I please," the Dark Lord seemed genuinely pleased with what he seemed to find. "Oh my, you have been telling the truth. Not a single night with him..."

"I told you that," Antha ground out. He was just pushing her.

"But almost. You stopped him." She narrowed her eyes at the unasked question, hardly thinking this was the time. They hardly had time. Six minutes.

"We were drunk... It was a party after a Gryffindor win in Quidditch," she said quietly. "I just had Salazar... It was that year, our final year. I ... He couldn't play but that didn't make him less interested in the game." She had remembered their moment of passion. They had snuck off to the Boys Dorm, locking the door and kissing heavily. It was a moment where they were almost something. "He was a bit drunker than I was, but he's always been a good drunk. Nothing was forced or anything and... It just didn't feel right. I had already developed feelings and..." She watched as he worked through his healing, listening to her story. "I didn't know if he felt the same way so I didn't ... I didn't want to do anything that could ruin our friendship, if he didn't like me back... When you're drunk you say things." She swallowed carefully as he did something, turning George over so that he was laying on his stomach. "And he didn't know about Salazar. He knew I was a virgin before... and he didn't know about Salazar, so he thought I was still a virgin, so... I had to stop it. I wasn't ready to answer the questions."

"To protect your secret."

"Yes," Antha agreed quietly. "It was the right thing to do at the time."

"And now?"

"It would have saved us a lot of heartache... but I'd still be worried for his life. I know how you get. That's why I kept telling you I didn't love him. I had to ... to keep him safe. You have this jealous streak... You want me for yourself and maybe he's a threat, but... you have me now. George isn't in the equation anymore."

"Your heart belongs to him."

"And my body to you. And your heart belongs to me. We have five weeks to make me fall in love with you... I'm sure it'll be easier than I believe." She touched George's brand quietly. It was pink from where she had branded and then re-cut it open. "Can you save him?" She didn't need to look up to know his expression. His jaw would be clenched and he'd huff before he'd admit he could.

"Yes." He was too predictable sometimes.

"Will you?" she pressed. She knew he could do lots of things, such as being a good person, but he wouldn't because that wasn't what he did. This was for her and that was the only reason why he was doing it.

"Unfortunately," he agreed.

"What is it, then?" she questioned. He was silent a moment as he moved towards his desk, digging around in a drawer, before he returned. A flick of his wand and George was on his back, Antha's hands pressed against both of his cheeks. Five minutes.

"Hold his jaw open." She did so. "There is no time for error, so I need you to keep him still and make sure he swallows everything." She didn't speak, just nodded, and watched as the potions went one by one down George's throat. Not a drop spilled. She counted the minutes in her head after he was done. Three minutes. The Dark Lord stepped back. "He was cursed, so it has nothing to do with the brand."

"Cursed?"

"He must have touched an object in the Manor before retiring for the evening. What you did had no effect at all. The brand would have left. You just relieved some of the dark tension in his body." The Dark Lord cleared his throat. "He should be fine." The room was silent except for the crackling fire and George's sudden hitches in breath, but his eyes were shut and his body limp. "However, there can still be some consequences."

"Consequences?" she eqchoed, her fingers tightening in his hair. She glanced up to see him nod.

"Death is still a viable option if the body has already begun to shut down," the Dark Lord stated flatly. Antha's eyes widened, her eyes turning back to George as though she could fight off the curse herself. "Others include him being mute, brain dead, or deaf. Blindness as well-"

"And that's best case scenario?" she interrupted, her words rushing out. She carefully knelt down so she was eyelevel with George's forehead, her fingers trying to sooth the ginger. "That's what happens if it's done right?"

"That's worst," the Dark Lord said reluctantly. "Best, he'll have severe scarring from the brand only."

She relaxed slightly. "Good..." She knew he'd risk it, if it meant his life. "Then that's fine. At least I tried... I tried and you tried and thank you."

"His body will need rest," the Dark Lord said. "Once he has passed the midnight bell, I'll have him transported to your room, where he will stay until he awakens." Antha swallowed in surprise. "He will no doubt be in a coma for a few days, and upon his awakening, arrangements will be made to cover his death. I will have a Muggle found tonight and you will take care of him and do what is necessary. I will come to you when he's found." Antha nodded immediately. And then the bells rang. George's breathing was even, his fever cooling as the seconds ticked by. A few tears escaped her and before she knew what she was doing, she had hugged the Dark Lord.

She had never noticed before how solid he was, and she dashed away any memories of him leaning over her and replaced them with gratefulness. "Thank you," she murmured. He didn't hug back, but she didn't expect that. She removed herself from him and sweeped a hand through George's hair. "When will the Muggle be ready?"

"After the meeting. I trust you'll make sure many people see him."

"Of course," Antha admitted. "If they believe it, then the Order will."

He only nodded. "I trust you can apparate him? I must get to the meeting."

"Of course," she murmured. "Thank you, so much."

He disappeared without another word and Antha soon followed, her hand gripping George's wrist. Without disturbing Salazar, she carefully placed him in the empty side of the bed and pulled the covers over his body to keep him warm. Her fingers ran through his hair again, drier than before, and she swallowed. He was okay. He would live. The Muggle... it would be difficult, but it could be done quickly. She knelt beside the bed and clutched George's arm with her hand and pressed her head against it. She didn't mean to fall asleep, especially in such an uncomfortable position, but couldn't stop herself from succumbing to the allure of sleep.

0o0o0o0o0o0

She jerked as she was suddenly jostled from her sleep. Her neck hurt and her knees. It was then that she realized she was kneeling on the floor, her head awkwardly resting on the top of the mattress. The Dark Lord was beside her, his looming figure impossibly taller from down on the ground. She hurriedly rose to her feet and lowered her head. "What is it, my Lord?"

"I have the Muggle. You are to arrange a placement for Weasley with his twin after he awakens. However, the world must believe him dead, so I believe dropping the body off to the family- make sure they believe him dead and mourn him." Bloody hell, Molly would kill her.

Antha nodded carefully. "And the polyjuice?"

"Severus has agreed to provide it, but complex glamour charms would last longer," Voldemort stated simply. He glanced at his sleeping son besides George. "I believe it best you drop the body off and leave as quickly as you can. I'm giving you thirty minutes."

She nodded carefully and looked up towards him. Merlin, he looked so... defeated. "If it's any consolation, the announcement of his death will slow Potter down."

"I knew there was a reason I let you speak freely," he smirked. She gave him a small smile, glad she had put him in a good mood. "An elf will tend to him while you're gone. You've been excused from the meeting tonight, I have told them you have come with child and need your rest." At her nod he began to leave the room. "The Muggle is in the drawing room."

"Thank you," she said quietly. He just nodded. She eyed Nagini before running her fingers through George's hair. "I'll be back." She kissed his forehead and swept from the room before she could linger any longer. She was still clad in the dress from earlier, but her feet were bare. She was starving, she was tired. She was worn out. It had been the most eventful day of her life. The Muggle was ginger himself, clad in Muggle clothing that was torn and bloody. When he glanced up at her entrance, he seemed so relieved to see her.

"Help me," he pleaded. "Help me-"

God, he even sounded like a Weasley. Tears sprung into her eyes and she approached the man. "I can't."

He seemed to become frightened then. She eyed the Muggle before her and thought of George upstairs. Collateral damage. She would suffer for her crimes when the war ended. She would suffer in Azkaban - her children sent to a Muggle family, no doubt. Maybe this man's family. "Please, I have a wife and children! My name is James Llewllyn-"

"I'm sorry," Antha said quietly. She cast the glamour charms first, so they would be quite real looking when he actually died, and body proportions would be normal. Satisfied he looked exactly like George, and forcing herself to listen to the voice in her head that it wasn't the real George, she quickly began to torture him. It would draw the attention of Death Eaters and that would make them see. The screams of the man in front of her were loud and echoed in the small room. Yes, very loud. The door opened just then and she glanced behind her, her jaw tightening as she spotted Rodolphus... Her father. "Father, I'm glad you could join us."

Rabastian entered behind him, but neither seemed to expect to see Antha. "Philantha," Rodolphus greeted. "Who's this? I was under the impression you were unwell because you are with child."

She smirked. "Yes, but the Dark Lord gave me a chance to have some fun with him before we kill him. He seems to have no Order information."

"Please-"

"Crucio!" Antha spat. He couldn't talk and expose anything. The man screamed again and she seemed to already be losing him. Someone must have tortured him before.

"I've never seen you more at peace," Rodolphus said proudly. He stepped beside his daughter, eyeing the man on the ground. "Those allegations of you murdering your mother-"

"Have I ever had a reason to murder mother?" Antha asked, appalled he would even think such a thing from her. She smirked as 'George' whimpered once more. "She may have done this to me, but I know the punishment was well deserved. The conditions were very suspicious, but I was only trying to find them." She cast another charm. "I'll have to kill him and deliver him to his family soon. The Order will be severely hindered with this."

"Then deliver the blow so you can deliver the body. I do not want you to strain yourself too much. This child is that of the Dark Lord's. It is an honor, and it must be cared for properly." Antha appreciated that and delivered the final blow.

"Avada Kedavra."

He collapsed on the ground, his body rigid as the spell took its course, killing him immediately. Antha refused to let the tears fall. It had to be done. George had to be safe. Her father and uncle shared a laugh before they wished her a good time delivering the body and then they were gone. When the clock struck nearly three in the morning, she apparated to the Burrow, the body falling behind her. She had to make this believable. She thought of Molly's sobs earlier that night and they echoed in her head, pounding against her skull and the tears were immediately. It would work until they broke her own heart, along with her breaking theirs.

Caterwauling charms went off immediately and Antha froze before she held up her hands. Figures emerged from the Burrow, their wands lighting up and Antha felt tears appear in her eyes as she was quickly disarmed and a wand touching her neck. "Philantha?"

"You saw me in the mirror," she said quietly. "You saw what he did. It's me." She dropped her gaze to the man on the ground. "I promised I'd bring him back... I promised... and I'm so sorry-" Merlin, she was breaking their hearts. Molly let out a wail of despair as she spotted her son.

"George!"

"I'm sorry," Antha said quietly, her cheeks damp as Arthur seemed to realize what was going on.

Molly fell to her knees and checked for any vital signs, but there were none. Antha knew that. "No, George! George, you're going to live- Antha promised-You'll live-George!"

Arthur went to his wife and she saw Fred stumble slightly. His eyes went to Antha and then to George. "No." She didn't expect to be hit with spellfire by him and so when she was, she didn't have time to dodge. Her wand lay in Arthur's hand and she fell to the ground. "How dare you! You promised! You told us-!"

"I didn't know!" Antha whimpered. "He was fine. He was healthy and... and then it was so sudden. I don't know who did it, but poison- maybe a curse when my back was turned. Whatever happened, it was quick and I had no time to fix it. No pain. He felt no pain-"

"Stupify!" Fred cried.

She whimpered as the spell hit her and her body slammed into the ground harder. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

"You're going back!" Fred shouted. "You're going back to him- he killed George! He hurt you- How can you go back to that?"

"I don't have a choice," she told him sharply. "It's either my son or me. I can't leave Salazar there-" She sobbed as she glanced at George. She could hear their heartbreak. She could hear their trust in her breaking. "I did all I could. I protected George as much as I could and-"

"And he's dead!" Fred seemed to crumple as he said it aloud. He stumbled to his twin and sobbed over him. It broke Antha's heart - even more so. This was his other half. This was his twin. His brother. His comrade. His best friend who had been through everything with him - first date, first kiss, first love. All of it was shared between them. Yes, Fred was who needed to hide George when George awoke.

Antha slowly sat up and bit her lip. Her tears weren't for George, but they didn't know that. The three Weasley members cried over their son, so they didn't seem to notice when Antha slowly approached them. "I promise I'll find out who did it," she said quietly. "They'll pay."

"We need to-to make an announcement," Fred rasped. "Potterwatch. Ron... Ron needs to know. Hogwarts-Bill and Charlie-"

"We'll bring him inside," Arthur said gently to his wife, who nodded. Arthur gave Antha her wand back. "Help me."

She nodded and cast a levitation charm on George before she began to guide him into the house, Arthur clearing a path ahead of her as he helped Molly move. When she entered the Burrow, she set George down atop the coffee table, her breath leaving her at how pale he was. Her work was amazingly real looking. "How did you find him?" Molly gasped.

"The Drawing Room. He must have been trying to find someone to help-" She stopped when Molly sobbed. "I'm going to find out who did it."

Fred appeared suddenly with a radio and he pressed some dials before he began to speak into the microphone. "River, this is Rapier." He pulled the microphone away as he tried to hold back a sob. "We have one additional death for the evening."

"Rapier, River's in. We're off the air, mate."

Fred nodded, but Lee couldn't see. "Know that. . . Add George Weasley to the evening announcement."

"No-" Lee's breath left him in a woosh and Antha sniffled. "That's a lie."

"He's just been delivered, River..." Fred glanced at George and looked away quickly. "They need to know. Ron, Bill, Charlie... Angelina and Alicia... Katie-"

"I'll add him," Lee said quietly. "Bloody hell... I thought he was on the run. Last I heard he was looking for Potter-"

"He was captured," Fred told him. "He was captured."

"Bloody hell." Lee seemed stunned. "Mate, I'm sorry-What about Antha? She was with him."

"She's here. She's ... she's the one that found him." Fred cleared his throat. "I need to go, River."

"Right. Hang in there, Rapier." Fred let the connection end and he stared at Antha for a moment before looking towards George. He soon joined his mother by his side and began to sob into his brother's hair. Merlin, it wasn't even his real brother. But Antha didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to mourn someone that was still alive. She just knew how to mourn the hearts that she broke.

"Get out of my house," Molly spoke darkly. Antha looked up in surprise to see the woman standing before her. "Leave."

"Molly- Let the girl-" Arthur began.

"You murdered him," Molly spat. "You said he wouldn't ... he wouldn't die and look at what you did!"

"I'm sorry," Antha said quietly.

"You knew! Hours ago, when you were fighting with him, you knew he was dying."

Tears gathered in her eyes as Molly raised her wand to Antha. "I didn't think he was dying. I thought he was just recovering from his wounds-"

"He's dead! Get out of my house! Get out! Get out! _Get out_!" Antha obeyed. She murmured a quick sorry to the family before she left the Burrow in a scurry and apparated quickly to Malfoy Manor. Not even five minutes of her thirty had been used up. When she landed in the foyer, she just stood there, unable to process what had happened. No place with the Order anymore. No place but the Death Eaters. Just like he wanted. She walked quietly up the stairs to her bedroom and once she was pleased with the silence, she called Clam. The elf appeared within seconds and Antha sat down at the foot of her bed, mindful of the snake and two humans.

"Clam, I was hit with a bit of spellfire," she told the small elf. "Sorry if I woke you."

"Clam wasn't woken. Miss has nothing to be sorry for," Clam said with a bright smile. "Miss wants to know if the baby is okay?"

Reluctantly, she nodded and the elf cast a wandless charm to answer her honestly. "Miss has put a bit of strain on the baby, but Miss just needs to sleep and eat well, and she and the baby will be fine. Should Clam bring Miss food?"

"Just a few sandwiches," she said quietly. "I've not eaten in a while."

Clam happily did that and Antha transfigured the bed to be slightly larger once she finished her meal before she fell asleep beside Salazar. Twenty seven hours and she feared it was just going to get worse.


	16. Chapter 15: Solemn Swears

When she awoke, it was to Salazar nudging her. "Mummy?"

"Yes, sweetie?" Antha murmured, blinking as the sunlight filtered in. Merlin, what time was it? "What is it? Are you alright?"

Salazar looked on the verge of tears, his brown eyes wide and clinging to his mother's arm desperately. Antha sat up and ignored the hiss of displeasure from the snake on the bed. "He's not waking up!" Salazar gasped. "I kept trying to-"

"Oh, he's alright," Antha promised her son. She gave a light laugh of relief and hugged her son's frightened form to her. "He was sick, but he's better now. He just needs to sleep for a few days until the curse in his system's gone. That's all. He won't wake up until then. Okay?"

"So he's not... he's not gone forever?"

"No, he's not," Antha promised. "What time is it?" She still was tired, but she knew that wasn't because of lack of sleep. It was because of her newly instated pregnancy. She glanced at the nightstand beside her and the small clock told her it was nearly noon. She slid out of the bed, and Nagini coiled tightly in agitation. "Alright, let's get some food, hmm? Hungry?"

"Yeah, what about him?"

"George will get a potion so that he's no longer hungry," Antha told Salazar as she helped him out of the bed. Nagini slithered towards George in a hope to get extra warmth the charmed blankets wouldn't provide. And she watched as Salazar rushed to the door as the snake coiled itself atop George's form, resting as the man rested. That was... strange. Nagini usually only cuddled to her, and never to the Dark Lord. Perhaps she sensed the good, and it warmed her up, as well. Maybe the Dark Lord just didn't have the same warmth as she did? Antha didn't know but she didn't want to find out.

She left the room in a flourish, her wand transfiguring her clothing so that she was more presentable. Each day of the pregnancy in the real world was truly a week and a few days in her womb. Antha could feel the child inside of her growing. Nearly two weeks in, though only one day in reality, she was starting to feel slightly weak from the potion using her magic and nutrients to support the life inside of her. A dark magic that should never had been used making her weak. She shouldn't have taken the potion at all.

Salazar was bounding and leaping in front of her and she did her best not to run after him. That simply would make matters worse... And on the slippery marble flooring, she would potentially fall.

"A time altering potion," a voice spoke beside her suddenly. She stiffled her hitch of breath in surprise and glanced towards Draco sharply, her eyes telling him what she didn't need to say. "Sorry."

"A time altering potion," she prompted, waving off his apology. "What about it?"

"That's what he feeds you when you get pregnant," he told her casually. "I found some notes on it in the library, in an old dusty book that was buried under a few others the Dark Lord had recently read."

"Oh?" she asked, surprised. "And how does it work? Properties?"

"It's made to age a victim on the inside, so that they die young and the Ministry has no way to know why. It looks like a natural death," Draco informed her. "However..." Potions properties... of course. His godfather had been teaching him outside of class it seemed. "When beans of gorgi trees are replaced with lavender sprigs, the potion is focused on the womb - why I have no idea. I didn't research that much." Antha gave him her full attention, her mind thinking of any possible reason he would have deveoped it in the first place. Nine months wasn't a long time at all. But... but it would be long enough for the Order to possibly attack and kill the child... He needed to limit the amount of time the Order had to plan and he had done it. "So it speeds up time in the womb until the pregnancy is accomplished, and then it flushes out of your system with the child..." Draco swallowed slightly. "The child seems unaffected by the effects of the potion, and will grow and age like a normal person."

"How does he know? In the notes, was there any mention of anyone having it tested on them?"

He hesitated before shaking his head. "Just you."

"So there could be side affects, but he doesn't know," Antha stated sharply. "It could still be working in me or Salazar-"

"If it was, you'd be dead by now," Draco stated simply. "As would Salazar. It seems to be safe. There could have been other victims, though, to try it out on, he just never listed. I can keep looking-"

"No," Antha said quietly. "Don't. You don't want to raise suspicion." He seemed to agree with that and swept a hand through his hair.

"I heard you killed Weasley."

She looked away from him with a shrug, her jaw clenching as she stepped down the marble steps, towards the dining room. He followed. "He refused to give up information. I needed to do what I could to protect us, in case he somehow had a tracking device on him." Her chin stiffened as she glanced at him, an animalistic smile on her lips. She would play the part now that George was safe. "His screams echoed in the manor, could you hear?"

Draco blinked, seemingly surprised by her behavior. "Of course I could." He swallowed, knowing that whatever chance he had at getting an Order friendly Antha to talk to were over. "I suppose the entire grounds could hear Weasley scream."

She nodded, agreeing or acknowledgement, she didn't know. "I delivered the body myself," Antha told Draco. "The Order was hardly friendly towards me after that. My years as an informant of their actions are over." He at least deserved a reason why she wasn't willing to be the Antha he knew. "I'm allowed to be a member of the Death Eaters as the Dark Lord sees fit, now. I have no need for Order folly." Her eyes met Draco's. "Shame, isn't it, I couldn't stay with the Order longer to find out where Potter would be moving to?"

"Shame," Draco agreed. "About my mother."

"A word will not be breathed," Antha assured him. She gave him a small smile. "You are, after all, my favorite cousin for a reason."

"Thank you."

She nodded in acknowledgement and they continued in silence to the dining hall. "I'm bloody terrified. I've always had a fall back, but now... I don't have the Order to go to anymore, Draco. If I screw up here, I truly screw up and it could be paid with my life."

"You'll always have a place with the Order... Maybe not with the Weasleys, but with someone."

She swallowed, nodding. "Well, I don't know about you, but I've heard word spreads fast."

He sighed, agreeing. Antha smoothed her hand over her dress, a relatively normal number that accentuated her assets without exposing any. Her kind of dress. She clenched her wand tightly in her hand as she turned the corner, the doors of the dining hall open wide so that she could see inside. Salazar was sitting in the chair closest to his father, the one across from Salazar left open for her. Walking into the room, she spotted Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy at the other end, her father and uncle seated in the middle section. Antha bowed to the Dark Lord shortly before taking her seat.

"I'm glad you could join us, Draco, Philantha," the Dark Lord greeted. He was in his Voldemort face today, and Salazar seemed not to mind. He sat in his chair, smiling brighly at the others at the table. They must have met, then. Her father and uncles included. "Did you sleep well, my dear?"

"Exceptionally well, my Lord," Antha nodded, her lips twitching into a smirk. "I dreamt of screams from Weasley and the heartbreak on the Order's faces. It was a dream I couldn't make up even if I tried." Nightmare, really. She had tossed and turned all night, but no relief. Nothing could make her forget Molly's face as she shouted at Antha to leave. Or Fred's heartbreak. Fred's defeat.

"I'm quite pleased to hear that," the Dark Lord admitted. "And since business with the Order is done, I feel something... more binding is in order for you. Since I cannot give you a mark - for you already had one and to readminister it would ..." He seemed less than pleased as he glanced down at her scarred arm, reading the words "Death Eater" etched upon them for the rest of her life, "disrupt your magical balance, something else, perhaps..." His eyes seemed to glow as he met her own. "An Unbreakable Vow, perhaps?"

"You know, my Lord, I will do whatever it is you ask of me. If you want an Unbreakable Vow," Antha said carefully, glancing down the table to see the others reactions, "then I will swear it."

Narcissa seemed uncharacteristically pale, and Draco... Draco had frozen entirely. Lucius, however, seemed to be watching her, studying her. She swallowed and kept her shoulders stiff and her head high. She was being watched now. Rudolphus and Rabastian seemed to only think it an honor. Salazar didn't know what the hell was being talked about. She wanted to keep it that way.

"Now."

Now? Antha nodded her head once. "Of course, my Lord. In a war such as this, there is no reason to take chances. Who knows who could get ahold of me."

"My thoughts precisely," the Dark Lord murmured. His eyes narrowed at her and Antha tilted her head slightly, in question of what he was thinking. "Draco?"

"My Lord?" Draco answered immediately.

Bloody hell... not Draco. "Swear an Unbreakable Vow with Philantha."

"As you wish, my Lord," Draco said stiffly. His voice didn't waver in the slightest to show the fear that was clearly in his eyes. Antha rose from her seat and Draco did from his. They walked towards each other, Antha moving behind the Dark Lord to get to him, and they hesitated before grasping forearms. His grip was loose, but she tightened hers, making him do the same. Their eyes met each other's and there was an agreement in them. They would do whatever it took to keep each other alive. They had gone into the Death Eater world together, they would stand by each other's side.

And suddenly Voldemort was standing beside their enclosed arms, his wand tip - an old wand that ... that was Dumbledore's. Of course, the Elder Wand stories. He had told them to her, made her memorize them word for word, years ago. It all made sense. With a flick of his wand, a silver stream slithered out and bound themselves around Draco and her's hands.

"Do you, Philantha Lucinda Lestrange, swear to do whatever it is I demand of you? To never betray my word and to always fulfill a task I assign to the best of your ability?" the Dark Lord stated.

"I so swear," Philantha said confidently. The silver chain-spell tightened on their hands, making her breath hitch slightly in surprise.

"Do you, Philantha Lucinda Lestrange, swear to remain loyal to me and only me, the punishment of betraying me being the death of Salazar Riddle?"

"I so swear," Antha said firmly. Only to him? If he were to die... she could do that. But Salazar's life... To risk him like that... He knew she would obey. The band tightened again, almost painfully.

"Do you, Philantha Lucinda Lestrange, swear to wed me and bear the name Philantha Riddle, our marriage to last until the death of one of us?"

Marriage? She felt her heart race and she glanced at him in surprise, but he betrayed nothing. Marriage? She wasn't... she was nineteen! She couldn't ... she couldn't simply marry him. The Order - oh, Merlin, the Order would tear her to shreds if he married her. If she married him. If she got married at all.

"I so swear," she said at last, the pause only seconds, so there was no question of it. The band tightened until there was pain, and then it disappeared completely, leaving only faint scars behind. Antha released her hand and gazed at the thin scars to add to her body. Marriage... to the Dark Lord. Betraying everything she knew. George... Oh, Merlin, George would be betrayed. But what better way to give the illusion he had her love than with marriage. What better way than a union of love.

Her head lifted back up to look at Draco and he seemed just as spooked as she. "My Lord," she began, her voice thick with the need to scream at him - to demand what the hell he was thinking. "This is an honor I have never dreamed of being possible."

"I expect you'll be ready by the end of the week," the Dark Lord continued as if he had been planning this all along. Had he?

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She paused before replying carefully. "Of course, my Lord. I will be ready."

"Good." His eyes looked her over. "I have a mission for you and Lucius." The Malfoy Lord glanced up, hearing his name. "You are to raid Diagon Alley and burn every shop to the ground. Anyone that fights back is to be taught a lesson."

"Today, my Lord?" Antha asked.

"Tomorrow," the Dark Lord spoke. "Noon." The busiest time of the day for the shops. "But let us first enjoy breakfast before we get into any details." It was agreed, though there wouldn't have been any arguing anyway, and Antha returned to her seat, her eyes falling to her hand as she scooted in. Plates appeared suddenly, as soon as everyone was seated, and her eyes darted over the various things. A full English breakfast. It reminded her of Molly. Reaching for her fork and knife, she began to cut her things. Glancing at Salazar's plate, they were already cut curtosy of the elves.

"My Lord, there is word of movement in the countryside," Lucius spoke after a moment of silence. The Dark Lord gave Lucius his attention as he reached for his morning tea. "Cotswold to be specific, my Lord." Lucius paused and swallowed. "It is said the werewolf and that Tonks girl are residing there from now on."

It would make sense to move. If Philantha had done what she did, known what she did, it would be wise to change locations. Though Antha would never give up their locations - never in a million years.

"I've also heard that the werewolf and his mate were living in London, in the Black home - the secret keeper I know not of."

"Things change," Lucius argued stiffly, his voice not changing from before. "After murdering Weasley, it's safe to assume this new lead is correct. They will change positions. If they thought you were on their side at all, that is."

She nodded in acquiescence. "Perhaps."

"Rabastian, look into it."

"Of course, my Lord," Antha's uncle answered. The Dark Lord blinked lazily at the table before turning his attention to Salazar. And he spoke in Parseltongue, making Antha's stomach clench and her appetite disappear, but she needed to eat. She needed to eat every hour, really, to maintain a balanced health. Drink something every two. Sleep every five for as many hours as her body would let her. That was her schedule. She just hoped the Dark Lord would help her stick to it... and her son.

Her son happily hissed back, smiling eagerly at his father. Antha wished desperately she knew what was being said, maybe just a hint, but... she knew asking would be a problem.

A yawn escaped Antha before she could fight it back and the Dark Lord glanced at her sharply, and on the surface he was annoyed, but she saw the concern in his eyes.

"Forgive me," Antha said quietly. "My body is still trying to get used to the state it's in." She spotted the smirk as it graced his pale lips. He was pleased with that answer, it seemed. Good. She chewed on the toast quietly, her fork selecting a bit of egg to eat next, when the Malfoy lord cleared his throat. Voldemort's red eyes slithered over to Lucius's form, who seemed to realize his mistake.

"How far along are you, Philantha?" Lucius quickly recovered.

Antha counted. "Three days, give or take," Antha responded. "The potion used for Salazar is being used again. I suspect the end of the month, another Riddle will be able to see the Dark Lord's followers." She glanced to the Dark Lord, nodding slightly. "I trust, my Lord, that you are hoping for another son?"

The Dark Lord reached for his goblet, sipping from it as he processed her question. "I already have an heir," he answered. "I will take whatever it is you can give me. I can hardly care for gender now." He smirked and glanced at Salazar, hissing something. Salazar hissed back with a smile. Antha's stomach rolled. An unpleasant smile appeared on the Dark Lord's face. "He hopes for a sister." And the Dark Lord laughed. He glanced at Antha almost coldly. "Do what you can to fulfill his wishes, Philantha."

What? But she had no way to control the gender of the child- "Of course, my Lord," Antha smiled politely back. So what would happen if she couldn't? He had flat out told her that she had to obey every word he said, and... how could she obey this? How could she possibly do this? Oh, Merlin, Salazar's life depended on this! Well, Salazar's life depended on her loyalty to the Dark Lord, only. And she was loyal to him. She would be loyal to him. Only to him.

There was silence as they finished their meal and Antha reached for her tea cup, sipping from it as the elves took the plates away. "Now, Lucius, Philantha... I have a task for you. One I expect to be fulfilled ... expertly." Antha knew it couldn't be good. She nodded, leaning forward slightly in intrigue, but when the Dark Lord met her eyes, she knew he saw her wariness. "Diagon Alley is becoming a hub for Order members," he continued. "Teach them a lesson." Antha nodded immediately. Lucius only hesitated slightly. "I want it all burnt to the ground."

Burnt? But... But Weasley Wizard Wheezes? That was the twins entire livelihood. They're everything. If she burnt it... she'd never have their friendship again. Never have their trust. "Fire is my specialty, my Lord," Antha reminded him after a moment to process the mission. "I will ensure that it's all rubble."

"Your loyalty and need to please astounds me, my dear." Antha only smiled slightly in response. "Which is why I'm sure you'll do an excellent job. I do not want you to strain yourself."

"I won't, my Lord," Antha answered politely. "I will put this child first in the mission."

The Dark Lord nodded in approval. "I expect you to leave at noon." The busiest day of Diagon Alley activity. "Kill whomever you must. However, a lesson taught would be more rewarding, don't you think?" He rose from the table, making everyone else rise and bow. "Philantha, follow me. We must talk. Narcissa, I trust you'll keep Salazar in good company until we return?"

"Of course, my Lord," Narcissa murmured. Salazar happily leaped down from his seat and to her side.

"Can we go in the garden again?" Salazar questioned. "We never got to the vine section, and you promised we'd get to that next time!"

"Of course, Salazar. Let's go now." Antha left the room before she could see the woman that had raised her like a mother take her son to the garden. The Dark Lord walked briskly, so she nearly had to jog to keep up. They ended up in her bedroom, the sleeping George still burdened under the weight of Nagini. Upon the Dark Lord's entrance, Nagini looked up and slithered something to the owner of the soul inside of her. The Dark Lord nodded once and Nagini rested her head back in her coils, her eyes shutting.

"You called me Tom," the Dark Lord informed her.

She blinked as he abruptly turned to face her. "What? When?"

He didn't seem surprised she didn't remember and moved towards the windows that overlooked the garden below. He drew back the curtains, letting the light flood in. Antha winced slightly. It was brighter than she had seen in days. "You used my name when you begged for his life."

She didn't know how to respond. Was he angry about it? Was he pleased? She decided to go with the fact that he hated his given name because his father had beared it. "Forgive me, my Lord. I wasn't thinking. If I've offended you-I do not mean to."

He picked up a solid bound book resting on the small table by the large windows, holding it up as he inspected it. "I do not require your apology. I insist you call me by it."

"By Tom?" she ventured, unsure. He nodded once, opening the front cover of the book, reading the words written there. "I thought you hated that name."

"I do," he admitted. "I also hate Weasley, and your choice in friends, and your true loyalty, but I let it slide, don't I?"

"Then why do you want me to call you by a name you hate?" Antha didn't understand. That usually just made him angry and trigger happy with his wand. It's why he hated Dumbledore so.

"It humanizes me," the Dark Lord admitted. "Purely selfish reasons, I assure you. But if you call me by that name, you'll start to recognize that I am human, too. We all make mistakes." He wanted her to emotionalize with the name, to emotionalize with him. "In fact, it's not a matter of if. You will call me by the name Tom. That I order." Damn it. She nodded at once and watched as he flipped through a few more pages of the book in his hands. She didn't know what it was. She couldn't remember there ever being a book there. "What is this?" he questioned.

She walked towards him, reading the cover. "It's this thing Muggles call a religion. It outlines the creation of man, the sins of man, the redemption of man, and the fall of man." He seemed intrigued. "I found it in a Muggle shop while I was... on the run, looking for Harry. The owner gave it to me for free when I admitted I had never heard of it before. I would read it at nights when I was hiding in the woods, and I'd travel with it by day. It's quite good. Long, but interesting."

"And Muggles worship this?" He stared at it as if it recalled a memory from long ago. "In those churches."

Antha nodded at once. "I've never gone to one. But there's all this talk of God's plan and souls and..." He sacrificed his own son. She didn't want to tell him that, though. She didn't want to give the Dark Lord any ideas. "I can get rid of it... Tom." The name almost hurt to say. "It's Muggle filth, I know. I don't even know how it got here... It must have been in my pocket when my mother was torturing me..."

He didn't respond, however, but closed the Bible and placed it on the table. "Read it to me. Tonight. You, me, Salazar. I'd like to listen to it." She couldn't figure out why, but nodded carefully, glancing at the book with the ancient cover and unreadable scrawl inside. It was an old book, she knew. The shop owner had it listed for ninety pounds, but had given it to her free of charge. She didn't know why, but she wanted to thank the shop reader in some way. As a witch, she was never raised with religion. It wasn't apart of their lifestyle. But she had heard about it from the Muggleborns in school. She celebrated Christmas, who didn't?

It was simply a holiday that help meaning in the Wizarding World. It had been passed in through Muggle culture, but the religion... hadn't. And this was the religion. That very book the Dark Lord wanted to be read to him. A Muggle book.

"Of course," Antha nodded after a moment. "It's rather long, though. I fear in five weeks time, we won't get through it all."

He smirked. "We will."

"I-" She hesitated, biting her lip. He raised an eyebrow in question. "Why marry me? What do you have to gain?" Her voice sounded a little hoarse, even to her own ears, and she cleared her throat to continue. "You never mentioned marriage before. I never even knew you wanted to get married..."

"I call you my own, do I not?" he returned. He headed for the door of her bedroom. "After dinner, Antha. And then noon I expect you in Diagon Alley."

"I will be," Antha answered, but feeling powerless. Anything he said now, she would have to do.

He paused at the door and glanced back at her. "You're not required to kill." That made her eyes widen in surprise. "But I'd like it if you did. I only care about it burning."

"Yes, my-" she winced slightly as he raised an eyebrow - he had switch to Tom Riddle form. "Tom."

He nodded once and then was gone. Antha stared at the door a moment, as if expecting him to return to punish her, but he never did. She instead moved towards George and Nagini hissed at her.

"I'm not going to hurt him," she told the snake quietly. The snake seemed to like George. Not as a meal, it seemed. Her hand gently touched George's forehead, feeling the cooling fever. He was getting better at least. She snapped her fingers and an elf appeared, shaking slightly as he spotted the snake. "I need a nutrients potion, please," Antha told the creature.

The elf nodded and was back a few minutes later with the requested potion. Antha took it from his shaking form and held open George's jaw tightly before she poured the potion down his throat. He, at least, had some senses left to him and swallowed. She wouldn't ever hurt him. She wouldn't ever get a chance to love him, not once the Dark Lord wed her. He wouldn't want her after that. No one would. The Wizarding World would shun her. Life as she knew it, as she had known it, would cease to exist. Her future would no longer be rolled out before her. It'd be stepping stones she'd have to leap on, jumping over the tarnished thing she called her life, as she reached things ahead of her.

The Prophet would have a field day with it all... With her. She sat with George the entire morning, only to be drawn away by Salazar, to listen to a Quidditch match on the radio. She didn't know he was interested in Quidditch... She didn't even know he knew about the sport. But they listened to it. And Salazar cheered when both teams scored, and booed when someone was knocked off their broom. By dinner time, they had walked around the Manor, her pointing out some portraits she had known when she was younger, introducing them. They were extremely polite - mostly due to the fact that if they offended the Dark Lord's son, they would go up in flames.

And then after a dinner of steak and pasta with some delicious greens, the Dark Lord led them to her bedroom, where she sat with Salazar on her lap, the Dark Lord across from her, and the Bible stretched out in front of her.

"Story time?" Salazar asked, tiredly.

Antha nodded, her chin rested on the top of his head and she began. "In the beginning," she said quietly, reading the small print aloud, "God created the heaven and the earth..." She read on for a very long time, occassionally sipping from a glass of water the elves brought her, but she was already tired. She hadn't been able to keep the routine she needed to. Her body accepted the nutrients potion brought to her around ten in the evening, to help her get through the night, and she continued reading until the Dark Lord asked her to stop.

By then, Salazar was asleep in her lap, and she was a fair amount through the pages of the Bible. "Tomorrow night," was all the Dark Lord said before he slipped out of the room. Antha bookmarked the page and set it down on the table before picking up her son in her arms, carrying him to the bed and placing him beside George. Nagini took no notice to them. Antha slipped into the confines of sleep, her nutrients potion resting at the bottom of her belly, and her arm curled protectively around the non-existant bump of her abdomen. She would protect her children at all costs, no matter the consequences.


	17. Chapter 16: The Desolation of Family

Her and Lucius landed in Knockturn Alley, which was silent and barren - odd for the season. It was almost like they were warned. Antha shifted uncomfortably. The leather corset she was wearing, a golden chain around her neck tucked into the front of it, was a tad tighter than she was used to. It was uncomfortable. Her bottoms were clad in tight leather pants. All of her scars were on display, all of her curves. She glanced around her before looking at Lucius. This entire mission was to keep him away from Narcissa - though the Dark Lord didn't know that - so she could escape to the Order.

But she didn't want to think about that too much. It would be betraying the Dark Lord.

"Order members could be hiding anywhere," Antha informed the blonde man that had raised her like a daughter of his.

"I'm glad you're back," Lucius said formally. "It wasn't the same without you. Gallivanting with the Order-"

"I did what I could to aide our Lord," Antha returned stiffly. "I gained their trust, got inside information even Severus couldn't unveil. Weaknesses only one treated like family would discover. That _gallivanting_ is winning us this war."

He scoffed as though it was a ridiculous notion. "We all saw what you were like. We see the mark no longer gracing your arm. You gained their trust, and they gained yours. We had a bet, you see, on how long Weasley would be allowed to live. Only Alecto won. She has kept her faith in you all along. She won a hundred galleons. The only one to bet that you'd kill the boy. We all thought you had gone too soft."

"And that gives you reason to doubt my loyalty? For killing a member of the Order?"

Lucius seemed to realize that. He held his tongue, bowing his head. "I didn't mean to question your loyalty-"

"The Dark Lord trusts me," she bit out. "What more do you need? Do you believe the Dark Lord a fool to trust me? That I do not happily bear him the children he so desires? I withstood a torture session from my own mother, to prove my loyalty to you, to get the punishment I deserved for not retrieving Potter like I had promised. What more do you need to know I am loyal?"

Hormones. Whoopsies. Lucius realized his mistake and nodded once. "Forgive me."

"We'll see. It will all be determined by how successful this mission is."

He seemed to be having a mental war, knowing that if she reported back to the Dark Lord, like any faithful follower would, how Lucius questioned her loyalty, he was screwed. Especially since she was the same woman the Dark Lord intended to marry by week's end. Merlin, she was too young for this war.

They walked carefully towards Diagon Alley, seeing and hearing the bustling street from the dark alley that blocked them from view. Antha leaned against the far wall, peering into the alley carefully. "Three Aurors, one Order member, are all I see," she said carefully. Lucius nodded, looking in the other direction of the alley, towards the Leaky Cauldron entrance. "Two Aurors are in front of Gringotts. One in front of Ollivander's destroyed shop. The Order member seems to be shopping. It's Molly Weasley." A wicked gleam showed in Lucius's eyes that Antha decided she didn't like. Her eyes suddenly widened, catching Lucius's attention immediately. "Holy shit, Lucius, Christmas just came early. Arthur, Fred, Lupin, and Tonks, as well. I can see them through the Weasley shop window."

A sadistic grin appeared on Lucius's face. "Let's ruin them."

The way he said that made her stomach turn, but she nodded. "Apparate to the middle. Scare tactic, but it'll throw them off so I can-" He didn't even need her to finish. They had done raids before. Antha watched as black smoke landed in the middle of the crowded street, causing many people to scream and try to run away. Antha was quick to cast anti-apparation charms and then she apparated as Lucius began to duel with the two Aurors. The other was trying to get back up, but he couldn't apparate away. Antha knew none of them. When she appeared in the middle of the street, next to Lucius, she rolled her shoulders. She had to be in the role in order to make it believable. She flipped her hair over her shoulder as she smirked at the Aurors. Three against two. Not bad odds, until it was added to with the Order.

"Oh, Lucius, look... Children!" Antha cried, giggling manically like her mother had, pointing her wand towards a group of children not yet of age to go to Hogwarts. She approached them, her steps practiced and her heels digging into the dirt between the cobblestone road. Everyone now was frozen, deciding whether they should intervene with the children, or run to the nearest point of apparation. "Hello, how are you?"

Obviously quite overcome with fear, they could only stutter out something that vaguely resembled "Good, ma'am!"

Her lips twitched, stained blood red to please the Dark Lord. She wanted a severe look. "Do you know who I am?" she asked quietly.

They shook their heads quickly. But just as she was about to introduce herself with a nice hex, a stinging charm came her way. She jumped out of the way, hearing a child cry in alarm as it hit them. She threw up a shield immediatley, spotting Lupin and Tonks coming towards her with wands raised. When they recognized her, they faltered slightly.

"Antha?"

"Crucio," Antha said without regret. The spell hit Tonks immediately, who hadn't been expecting it, and she dropped to the ground, writhing as she screamed. "Oh, you sound just like George did as he begged for his life," Antha breathed. Her eyes watched Tonks form, as though it was enrapturing. "How he screamed-"

"You toy with your food," Lucius snarled.

Antha's lips twitched as she released the spell and aimed her wand at Lupin, whose own was pointed back at her. She shifted from foot to foot, ready to spring away if necessary. Molly Weasley rushed to Tonks' side, helping the girl up. "You told us George died by a curse-"

Her and Lucius shared a laugh, her eyes darting to the blondes as her wand never faltered. "Oh, how innocent," Antha gushed at the werewolf. He looked confused. "Oh, you didn't get the memo, did you? I think you misunderstood. That pathetic excuse of a Weasley was a slave for me. Marked by my wand to be loyal only to me. And the look of betrayal in his eyes as I aimed my wand and... and tortured him until he could scream no more."

"You're lying!" Molly shouted. Obviously overcome with emotion, it made her vulnerable. Vulnerable for more heartache.

"Oh, and how my brothers cheered me on. Oh, the pleasure I took in George's pain. There's nothing like it." They stared at her like they had never seen her before. She supposed they hadn't seen her like this... They had never seen Death Eater Philantha. "Watching the light leave someone's eyes as the spell is said... How they go limp and their soul leaves their body..." She ran her tongue along the edge of her teeth, giving a sadistic grin. "I assure you, it's not something that can be replicated."

"We trusted you!" Molly cried. "We let you into our home and we gave you everything-"

"And look what I gave you in return!" Antha laughed gleefully. "A dead son. A son dead by my own hand, no less. Do you want a replay?" Her wand flicked so fast they had no chance at retaliation. "Crucio!" Lupin fell to his knees, groaning in pain. "Filthy half-breed!"

"Philantha, we have a task to complete," Lucius drawled. She released the curse, giggling.

"How could I have forgotten? Incendio!" Flourish and Blotts was in flames before anyone could deflect the spell. And then a wand was on her. Fred. "Oh, it's Freddie! How are you? Missing your other half?"

The Weasley twin that made her own eyes refuse to look him dead on clenched his jaw in an obvious effort to hold back his grief. He looked so enraged to see her. "It was all a lie, wasn't it? Everything!" Fred jabbed in her direction with a jerk of her wand. Antha glanced behind her quickly to see that Lucius was lighting up a few shops, and then torturing a few of the children she had been speaking to that couldn't run away fast enough. The heat from Flourish and Blotts was ... intense. She could feel it from just where she stood. And bright. It made Fred's ginger hair nearly yellow and glowing.

Like an angel. "You'll have to be a bit more specific, Freddie." An Order member moved, but her wand was on him just as quickly. Arthur. "Ah, ah," she tutted. "I wouldn't if I were you. They don't call me an expert arsonist for nothing. And since this is probably the last time I'll be out in the open for a while..." She grinned at their confused faces. "I have to make it memorable."

He seemed confused with that, but she flicked her wand over his head. Weasley Wizard Wheezes erupted into the same color as his hair. He gasped, turning around to face it. "There are children in there!" he shouted at her.

Antha met his stare blankly. "All's fair in war."

"This isn't you," Fred insisted. "You aren't-you aren't like this, Antha. You aren't the girl we grew up with-"

"Crucio!" she cried. Fred collapsed to his kness, crying out with a pain that sounded so much like George. For just a second, her mask faltered, and she closed her eyes to keep the tears at bay, before she breathed suddenly and opened them, staring at Fred, betraying nothing. This wasn't George. George was safe. George was alive.

"Filipendo!" Lupin shouted.

Antha was thrown back, spinning in the air, and she landed hard on the cobblestone road. She made sure to cushion the blow around her midsection before she glared at the werewolf. "Oh, that was bad form, wolf." She pulled herself up, ignoring Lucius's look, and cast incendio on the shop beside her. Madame Malkin's. The witch who owned it was standing in front of it fearfully, horrified. Antha smirked at her, making the elderly woman bakck up in fear. "Levicorpus!" The witch cried out as she was lifted up into the air by an invisible force around her ankle. Antha levitated her out to the middle of the street, walking carefully. "A single spell my way and I drop her. She falls this way and she will crack her head open upon the pavement, dying instantly... or suffering painfully." The witch gave a choked sob of fear.

"Put her down!" Arthur called. Antha's eyes swept over the Order members that had formed a sort of resistant wall, blocking her path from the south end of the Alley. She saw a blazing Weasley Wizard Wheezes, and Fred and someone else - Lee Jordan and a girl, probably Verity - pulling children from the smoking downstairs floor. Their entire livelihood lost. Their apartment. Everything.

"Alright," Antha said easily, and flicked her wand again. The woman began to fall, fifty feet from the air.

"No!" Lupin roared.

Antha caught the woman with a flick of her wand, making her screaming stop. "Oh, that wasn't what you meant?" She gave a giggle and moved her wand so that Madame Malkin began to float towards her burning store. "Hmmm, I've always wanted to know what burning flesh smelt like, don't you?"

"No! Please, please-" the calm and collected robe-mender cried out in fear. No longer calm and collected when her life was in jeopardy. How... two-faced of her. Antha didn't like it a bit. She made sure Madame Malkin was above the flames so that she could feel the heat, and she cried pathetically. Cold, detached from herself, Antha let out a snort of disgust.

"People show their true colors when they're about to die," Antha explained to the horror-struck Order. She could hear Lucius torturing people behind her. They would cover each other's backs. She eyed the Order. "Remember-" she spoke when a few Order members raised their wands towards her, "-she drops if you attack. By the time you try to save her... bye-bye Madame Malkin."

"You aren't this person," Molly pleaded. "You aren't a killer."

Antha lowered Madame Malkin slightly so she was just above the flames. Her hands were tight on her wand and she felt the power, but also the disgrace seeping in. Antha had to distract herself from feeling that emotion. She couldn't lose it now. She lowered the woman again, so that she was inches from the top of the flames. And then her robes caught fire. Antha waited a moment as the woman screamed, trying to pat the fire out, but she couldn't. When she was sure the flames were properly spreading, she flicked her wands, letting the woman sail through the air and land a few meters away on the street. At least a few bones broken.

She began to scream as the flames spread more and more. "Aquimenti!" Tonks cried to the woman. A jet of water coated the burnt tailor and Tonks waited until she was out before kneeling beside her, doing minimal healing charms - she wasn't that adept at healing.

"You're a monster," Fred said without remorse.

"It's my biggest redeeming quality," Antha smirked.

Fred shook his head, unable to meet her eyes. She wished he would. Her eyes darted to the Weasley parents, and the two Aurors that were by Gringotts, but slowly approaching, as if they could be passed off as citizens that were passing by. She knew better. Molly had tears in her eyes, tear treks that were falling down her cheeks, where the ash and soot in the air coated their skin. Antha could feel it on her own skin. Weasley Wizard Wheezes blazed even brighter as the top floor collapsed onto the second. Fred didn't seem too concerned with his shop, however. He didn't seem concerned in the slightest. Interesting.

She wondered why.

After she had graduated, she had worked in the shop with the boys, the twins, Lee, and then the only other female employee with her - Verity. They had all been in Gryffindor together. Her and Verity didn't live in the flat above the shop, like the boys did. There were three individual suites, and a Common Room area where a kitchen, dining room, and living room was. Each suite had two bedrooms, a bathroom, and equal access to the Work Room.

Antha had been a frequent visitor to the flat, familiar with every nook and cranny. She knew product prices by heart, where each product was. And yet... she burned it like it meant nothing. Right now, it didn't. She couldn't think like an Order member. She had to think like a Death Eater.

"Crucio," she stated calmly, an eyebrow raised as Fred thought the spell was for him. It hit Molly Weasley, unsuspecting, and she screamed like she was being pulled apart. Antha supposed that was what it felt like. Molly screamed and thrashed, her wand falling to the ground beside her as the plump woman fell onto her side. She could hardly breathe. And then Antha released her, staring at Arthur, daring him to avenge or go to Molly's side. He, wisely, didn't move. "Who's next?"

No one moved, except for Molly, reaching blindly for her wand with shaky hands. Helpless.

They all were.

"Incendio!" Antha lit up a row of shops, leading right up to Gringott's entrance. Gringotts was fireproof. It wouldn't burn even if she tried. She quickly followed by lighting up the other side of the street, smirking as there were cries of fear from people trapped in the street. No where to hide. But they could run, as the children that were being led from Weasley Wizard Wheezes were by Lee Jordan.

It was burning to the ground... Burning like a torch.

One more lesson to teach. "You made a big mistake," Antha said, unapologetically. "You shouldn't have trusted me at all. Crucio!"

Arthur Weasley was down this time. She backed up a few steps until Lucius was in her peripheral vision. She glanced at him, questioningly. "Take care of the Aurors behind you."

Antha nodded and did as told, killing Badcoke after a quick round of torture. The other she caught his robes on fire. And then she glanced at Lucius once more.

"Is your end ashes?" she inquired. She didn't want to risk looking behind her and the Order attacking her while distracted. She cast a spell to lower the anti-apparation wards and nodded to Lucius. "Shall you do the honors, or myself?"

"You are the Dark Lord's intended," Lucius returned.

It was loud enough for the others to hear and she smirked at the shocked look of Molly. Releasing the spell on Arthur, she pointed her wand to the sky. "Morsmorde!"

The black smoke appeared from her wand, swirling above their heads until it formed the recognizable mark of the Death Eaters. The skull with the snake circling around and around the large cloud, sliding into the mouth of the skull and back out the other side. It loomed overhead, making the sky dark. Antha and Lucius glanced at Each other before they apparated with a crack.

The Dark Lord was in his study when her and Lucius returned. Lucius had a few burn marked that would need to be tended to, but Antha was alright. A few bruises, and a cut on her arm, but nothing that couldn't be fixed. The Dark Lord looked up from a parchment he was writing on - Merlin, who did he keep talking to? - and nodded to them.

"It is ashes," Antha said with no emotion. "If I may retire to my room, to wash up? I need to get the scent of Mudbloods from my skin."

"Yes, I expect a full debriefing of your mission," the Dark Lord said, gazing between her and Lucius. "You are dismissed, Lucius. I need to talk to Philantha."

"Of course, my Lord," Lucius said nervously, glancing at Antha as he swallowed tightly. He shut the door behind him.

Antha clenched her jaw, "I really should wash up before I stain the rug."

"Everything went as planned?"

She nodded once, not looking at him. She couldn't look at him. She stared at the parchment on the desk, the quill still poised as though he was prepard to write more. It was already a long letter. "It all was swimmingly. Three Aurors, five Order members. I killed Badcoke, an Auror, and took care of the Order members and another Auror. They didn't fight back once I was finished. Madame Malkin is suffering from severe burns at St. Mungo's as well, my L-" She bit her lip, a twinge of annoyance crossing her features. "Tom."

"You've done very well," he remarked. "I'm surpised."

"I live to please you," Antha said with a smirk. "May I leave now?"

"Yes."

She didn't even wait for words of departure. She spun and rushed from the room, the doors shutting behind her tightly and she sprinted down the hall, as fast as her legs would take her. Her bedroom door opened with a bang and she shut it quickly, a sob escaping her. Oh, Merlin. Their faces... their horror as she burned it all to the ground. As people screamed in pain and ... they'd remember. They'd always remember. She deserved nothing less than Azkaban now. Her body ached from the dueling and...

"Merlin," she breathed into the wood of her door. She shook her head and pulled out her necklace, staring at the golden weasel. It had been a gift from George, her seventeeth birthday. It gave her strength, it gave her a warm feeling inside. She pulled it off of her neck and cast it aside, another sob leaving her. This was the day it was all over. Any last shred of familiarity between her and the Weasleys - her and the Order - shattered. No one hated Antha more than she hated herself.

"Tears never really suited you."

Antha gasped, spinning around to see the Dark Lord sitting at her table. In his hands was the golden chain of the necklace she had tossed aside. "T-Tom."

"You're upset because the Order despises you, now."

"They were the only family I knew once I came to Hogwarts. Narcissa and Lucius were always like second parents, to me, but with the Order, I had siblings and no expectations of propriety." She stared at him a moment as he nodded, but offered nothing in return. "Why are you here?"

"Clean up. I feel like we have much to discuss... Especially concerning the Weasley that shares your bed." Her eyes drifted to George, who was sleeping soundlessly. Nagini was still coiled on top of him, as though she had never left. "Salazar is with Draco. The boy is teaching him how to play Quidditch. I've already warned Draco what will happened if Salazar returns with a bruise."

"Draco won't harm him," Antha defended quietly. She walked to her wardrobe after a moment. Washed and then she'd talk. But not until she was clean and she could force her memories away.


	18. Chapter 17: Dividing the Soul

She took her time in the bath, letting the warm water soak into her skin. A strong locking ward was on the bathroom door so that the Dark Lord wouldn't enter. She was more worried about what he'd do in the room with George, but he had promised. He wouldn't break that promise... but she had no chance at running, not with the Vow on her. She couldn't have run.

And Voldemort knew it. Antha was stuck here until the war ended. Stuck with him until he died by Sunday. It made her blood curl. She scrubbed her skin until it hurt, getting the pain and the cries of the raid off of her skin, away from infecting her blood, and soon her heart. She would have nightmares about it, instead. But she couldn't dwell on it while she was awake.

Soon, the water turned cold and Antha sighed as she stepped out of the water. She waved her wand around her, drying her hair and skin, before she grabbed the dress she had selected, pulling it on. It was a light gold in color, making her skin seem paler than it truly was. She stared at herself in the mirror, taking deep breaths as she placed shields around her memory. It was a skill Severus had taught her in her sixth year, to detatch her emotions from the horrors of her life. Though he had simply stated that it was just to make her easier to function and live with herself. But she never forgot them.

She placed many barriers around them and then stepped back from the mirror, throwing her ash ridden clothes into the hamper the elves would clean for her. It was something she appreciated. Opening the door, letting her see into her bedroom, the Dark Lord was standing at the window, deep in thought. Glancing over to George, she found the ginger twin unharmed, sleeping, and still tucked under Nagini's body.

"Nagini is growing fond of him," Antha spoke, causing the Dark Lord to turn suddenly. He flickered his eyes towards the boy as well, nodding once. "She likes his temperature. With a fever, it adds to the heating charms on the covers. I hardly see her in a different location, these days."

"Is that so?" the Dark Lord asked, his gaze turning back to her. He was confused with her pleasant tone, he could see it. And how she willingly was engaging in conversation with him. "And, pray tell, why would she like the warmth?"

"She's a reptile," Antha said slowly. "She likes the heat because she cannot produce it herself." Antha stepped towards the small table, seeing a tray of food. "Is this for me?"

"I had thought you would be famished after your mission."

"You thought correct," Antha murmured. She inspected it for poisons, her paranoid nature not leaving, not even in a home that was safer than the Order. She then took a seat, satisfied it was clean, and picked up a small sandwich. Turkey and cheese. Interesting. Had he remembered her favorite sandwiches, or was it an elf? "Though that doesn't explain what you wish to talk about."

He hesitated a moment before sitting across from her. "I'm going to Hell."

She blinked at him, not understanding what that had to do with anything. She already knew that. Everyone and their mother knew that. "Your point?" she inquired after he didn't elaborate. And he didn't elaborate for a while, leaving Antha to chew on her sandwich slowly as she waited for him. It wasn't like the war was quickly approaching or anything. He didn't seem to be in a rush.

"That's what Muggle religion says. I'll burn for eternity in hell for all that I've done."

"Wonder why," Antha returned dryly. "You act like this is news. That you never knew the acts you performed were wrong."

"Eternity is a long time," the Dark Lord retorted, not pleased with her sarcasm.

"If your actions take you to hell, I no doubt will end up with you," Antha said after a moment. She pulled at her sandwich. "I have killed, I have destroyed people's lives, committed many sins... I will go to hell, as well."

"Perhaps it will be merciful."

Antha glanced at him, shaking her head slightly, "I doubt that. Eternal suffering, and all that."

He glanced away from her, as though in pain. It was definitely something he didn't want to hear. "No, my death."

"Potter isn't one to deliver pain," Antha agreed quietly. "I... I doubt it will hurt."

"I have begun my will," he stated, facing her. She paused in her chewing, showing her surprise. She had no idea he felt this strongly about the outcome of the war. That he would die. He always acted as though it was something that wasn't even worth considering.

"You think that the Order will win," she said carefully.

"Would I have forced you to wed me otherwise?" he asked. "I may be a moster, but I am also a man."

She could have been fooled. The man before her was watching her, waiting for a response. She set her sandwich down, giving him her full attention. "And that's why we are to be wed? Because you are a man and a man gets what he wants?"

"No, because I get what I want." He smirked slightly. "I have written my will - the beginning really. I suspect it will be quite long."

"Should I write one as well?"

He waited a moment, thinking of the question. As if he truly didn't know. He always knew the answers to everything, always could wit his way through something he didn't know. "It certainly wouldn't hurt. Once I am gone, who knows what will happen to you - with my followers or without them."

"You think the Order would kill me?" she pressed, her appitite slowly fading. He nodded once but offered no verbal response. She nodded in return, thinking back to the raid just moments before. She had tortured nearly half the Order - nearly the entire Weasley family. She had killed two Aurors... She had burned the entire alley down. It was enough for an Azkaban conviction. Add to the fact that the Dark Lord would soon be wedding her... It was enough for death. The ultimate alliance with the Dark Lord.

"Potter... Potter's been quite active in the last few weeks... Just before he arrived at his current location - Bill Weasley's - he has destroyed a part of my soul."

Antha swallowed tightly. "Your horcruxes."

He nodded once, pulling the chair across from her and sitting. "That makes four."

"The diary, the locket, and the ring...?" Antha didn't know of any more.

"He has ... he has stolen a cup from your mother's vault... your vault, now."

She blinked. "How could they have possibly gotten into my vault?"

"I thought you would know the answer."

She was quiet, trying to think of how they possibly could have snuck into the Lestrange vault, one of the oldest vaults of British Wizarding History. They had no polyjuice to turn into her. They had no elves to carry them away - Dobby had been confirmed dead after the escape from the Manor. "You think I took them there," she said after a moment. "That I am helping him?"

"Are you?"

"I be dead by now if I had," she informed him. "The Vow would have prevented me, even if I had thought of it. No, I am not helping Harry..."

"That night, you left. The same night he went into the vault."

"I left the day after, because I was too injured," Antha reminded him quietly. "I honestly have no idea how he could get access to my vault. It is a blood vault, not a vault with a key. It requires two goblins and a member of my mother's blood... Not even my father has access..."

"Who would?" Voldemort pressed.

"I-I don't know... I am my mother's only child. It was configured at my birth so that only her and I could access it..." Antha had never felt so confused in her life. "I'm sorry, my L-Tom. I haven't any clue. If they have a goblin, they can trip the wards - they can get access without me or my mother."

"Narcissa or Draco do not have access?"

"Not that I'm aware," Antha informed him. "The blood of the Blacks is overpowered by Lucius's distant veela blood, in Draco. And Narcissa was present at that time. It couldn't have been either."

"Her other sister? And the girl?" Andromeda and Tonks?

"No, Andromeda isn't as cunning as her sisters. She is a healer, not a fighter... Tonks... Tonks just had her child. There's no way she could have-"

"Just had a child?"

Antha closed her mouth immediately, her breath stilling as she watched him mull this information over. His eyes were watching her back, a smirk appearing on his face. "It's an innocent child." She stopped speaking, however. She didn't want to beg. She promised she would never ask for anything again, after he saved George. Her eyes darted to the sleeping ginger, peaceful, breathing quietly. And the snake above him, Nagini, sleeping as well. "You have three left."

"Two."

"I thought you made seven," she said quietly.

"I have the diadem and Nagini..." His eyes met hers in complete seriousness. "The third wasn't created."

She swallowed. "There were whispers, um... there were talks of ... of Potter being your last." She lowered her eyes to her sandwich, struggling to pick off a peice and put it in her mouth. There was a long range of silence as he contemplated this.. or perhaps waited for her to continue. "I don't ... I don't know for sure where that originated from but I know the Order talked about the possibility."

"And the Order knows of my horcruxes, then?" His tone wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't angry either. Antha didn't know how he felt. His face was perfectly still, not showing a single emotion. His hands were clasped in his lap, pale white.

"They do not know what they are, that some are destroyed... they're making guesses... a shot in the dark. Only Potter would know, I assume... if he's able to destroy them." Antha adjusted herself in the chair. "Why do you ask about the vault? You would know by now if I had participated, would you not? Ask the goblins that noticed - did they see me?"

"The Aurors saw Potter, the Mudblood girl, Weasley, and another figure they couldn't tell the name of."

Antha blinked, "That they couldn't tell the name of? Why not?"

He shrugged. "I tortured them for an hour and a half, and they physically couldn't produce a name to the face. Nor the face."

"Memory charms?" Antha suggested.

He nodded once. "If I have only two left, it makes me vulnerable... it makes my Death Eaters vulnerable. We must talk of what is to happen to you and the children if I weren't to make it through the war." The children. It reminded her why she needed to eat. She took a bite and nodded for him to continue. "When I fall, you are to take command of the Death Eaters."

She swallowed her bite immediately, protesting. "I have no authority over them," she sputtered. "They don't trust me to the extent they would die for me... My L-Tom-" she frustratingly corrected herself, "I would die in minutes for attempting such a-"

"If they do not accept your rise to power," the Dark Lord continued, staring at her and causing her to stop speaking. "You are to take the children and hide until it is safe. I do not want my heir in jeopardy... He will take my place once he is old enough." Salazar would never do such a thing. Antha knew that. He did as well.

"Who would take over if you were not there?" she asked quietly. "Who would try to ... to do that?"

"Lucius would have been my first answer, however he has grown cowardly, sickly, frail these last few months. The war has been bad for his business. He regrets his ranks within my army. He will be dealt with after the war, but as of now, I need his funds and headquarters... Severus would be my pick. He is intelligent, careful, and very good at what he does." Antha hated the thought of Severus taking over the Dark Side. Severus wasn't dark... he wasn't a bad man. "However, he will be dead the night Potter and I face off."

"Dead?" Antha echoed. "What has he done to warrant death?"

"It has been arranged since the night Dumbledore fell. The Elder Wand must be mine. Since Draco failed to kill the Headmaster, and instead it was Severus, Severus must die."

Antha bit her lip, confused. "You would have killed Draco... The last heir to the Malfoy name?"

"Yes." The Dark Lord didn't seem to qualmed by her favorite cousin's demise. "He is still under watch. His mother as well."

"Narcissa?" Antha asked, confused. Hadn't Narcissa already fled? "Why is she being watched?"

"She's far too comforting towards the boy."

"It's called mothering. Am I under watch for comforting Salazar?"

"Yes. You've been watched since the moment you arrived, my dear." His gaze turned to her food. "Are you not hungry?"

"I-" Antha wasn't, but she needed to eat. She took a bite of the sandwich, chewing it slowly before swallowing. "I have to eat, but I am not hungry... This potion makes me starve and full all at the same time."

"Yes, well, that is the struggle of caring for a child in the womb, is it not?" She nodded, taking another bite. She had no desires for another child. She wanted to leave, she wanted Salazar to not have to worry about a sister... either to care for her or to protect her. It was too much for Salazar to handle on top of everything. "I have a mission for you, tomorrow."

"Another mission?" Antha asked, confused. "You've never given me back to back missions before."

"You know of a young girl named Lavender Brown, correct?" he asked. At her confused nod - as she saw no reason to lie to him - he continued. "I want you to go to her home. She has been hiding out during the war, living at home in a Muggle suburb, thinking it to be safe. Pay her a visit... show her that she isn't safe."

"You want me to kill her, Tom?" Antha asked, unsure.

"No," he smirked. "Torture, yes. Show her she isn't safe, and that her boyfriend - Mr. Ronald Weasley - can't save her always."

Antha nodded. "When?"

"Tomorrow after dinner, I believe."

"I will-" The doors burst open, banging off the walls, and Salazar, covered in mud and grass ran inside, giggling. He grabbed onto Antha's arm by the time she realized it was him, and not a mud covered house elf.

"Mummy! I had the best time playing Quidditch!" he giggled. "We have to play more often! Draco fell a few times. Because I knocked into him. And then I landed in a big puddle and lost my balance- Draco said I needed to get my land legs again. And then I threw a big ball of mud at his face. And then he and I all went and threw mud at each other!"

Antha giggled, giving him her attention. "Yes, I can see that. Why don't we put you in a bath before you get a cold?"

"But I feel like a mud monster! Grrrrr."

Antha laughed and stood, picking him up and moving towards the bathroom. "Very frightening. But you're getting the floor dirty. Apple or Berry?"

"Berry!" he cried.

Antha flicked her wand to the tub, resulting in water spilling out, before she grabbed the berry scented soap. She let the bath soap up as she undressed her son, taking care not to get too much mud on herself. She tapped the water to stop it from flowing before throwing her son inside. He giggled as he played with the bubbles.

"Why didn't the elves get you to a bath before you came inside?" Antha asked him.

"Because the elves are helping Draco and Mr. Malfoy look for something." Narcissa. The little boy giggled as Antha poured soap into his muddy hair, using her hands to scrunch and suds it up. "And then Draco left so I had to go find you."

"How long did it take you?"

"Two minutes. The portraits helped me." Salazar giggled. "They're really cool. They were talking to me and everything!"

"Yes, they tend to do that." Antha began to use a scrub brush to get the dried mud off of his skin. "So you liked Quidditch?"

"Yes! I want to be a Quidditch player when I grow up!"

"And not like Daddy?" she asked innocently.

"No, Daddy's job is scary," Salazar admitted. "And he's mean sometimes... and the people that work for him are mean, too... And they're really scary. I miss Andy and Ted's."

"I know," Antha said quietly. She started on his other arm. "But Narcissa and Draco are nice, aren't they?"

"Yeah, but they don't have time to hang out with me all the time. And you're always busy... and Daddy doesn't like hanging out with me much. . . he turns really scary faced. I don't try to look... it gives me nightmares." Antha glanced at him quickly, to see him biting his lip. "You won't tell him that, right?"

"No," Antha said quietly. "I won't." Her son relaxed slightly. "Can I tell you a secret?"

He nodded immediately, brightening up. "Yes!"

"It gives me nightmares, too."

"I don't like it when he does that face."

"I know," Antha said quietly, "but he has to when he's around everyone else, because it makes them listen to him... he can't be pretty looking all the time." Salazar didn't seem to understand. She paused suddenly, gripping his arm so she could see better. "Where did you get this?" A large bruise, dark in color, was on his shoulder.

Salazar shifted in the bath uncomfortable. "No where."

"Where?" she pressed, her voice on the verge of being very angry. She tried to keep it calm. She wasn't angry at him, she couldn't be, but she didn't want him to be hurt here. "Did your father do this to you?"

"No," Salazar muttered. "I was in the garden, and I wasn't supposed to... Mrs. Malfoy wasn't with me, and a man told me to go inside, but I got scared..."

"Do you know who it was?" Antha asked gently, seething on the inside. Her son shook his head. "Can you describe him?"

"I-I don't remember."

"Was this today?"

"Yesterday."

She nodded. "Are you alright? He didn't hurt you other than the bruise, right?"

Salazar nodded. "He just grabbed my arm and pulled me inside. That's all." She kept quiet, finishing cleaning the mud from his body, before she rinsed him off. She wrapped him in a fluffy towel as she cleaned the mud off of her clothing, and directed him back to her bedroom. The Dark Lord was sitting where he was before, but he had left since she had started the bath. His robes were different - formal - and there was a smear of blood on his collar.

"You've... got blood on your collar bone," Antha said quietly, pulling Salazar into her lap.

"Yes, I've taken care of what you two were discussing." Antha met his eyes and felt him probe her mind. The memory of her questioning her son was brought to her mind's eye and a face... Goyle. Not Gregory, but the boy's father. Good. "Are you hungry, Salazar?"

The little boy nodded, and a plate of food appeared, igniting Antha's appetite once more. "Oooo, I love hamburgers!"

Indeed, it was Muggle food once more. Her son ate it happily, and Antha did her best to finish her meal, before she looked across the table to her soon to be husband. "Lavender Brown... if I were to run into anyone?"

"Memory modification charms," the Dark Lord answered. "I trust that there won't be any visitors, but just in case... you are to remain unseen in those events. If they are Order members, only find out who and report back to me. Hear whatever you can."

She could do that. "When should I return?"

"When you feel it is best."

Merlin, she could run away and he wouldn't know until it was too late. "Very well." She waited until her son had finished eating before she called for an elf to take her plates away. "What other intentions do you have to be here?"

"To make sure you do not harm yourself," he admitted, Salazar running over to a stack of books. "You looked like a wreck when you came back."

"That's what anyone would feel like after they tear the hearts of their family members out." He winced slightly at the depiction. She glanced at Salazar, watching him as she continued. "It's all gone... Not just Diagon Alley, everything. All of my friends, all the bonds and feelings of trust I've made with everyone... once this war is over, I don't see how I'll ever get it back. I won't get any of them back. They loathe me and they have every right to. I loathe me, too. I suppose that makes it easier."

"Makes what easier?"

"Being yours."

"In five weeks, you'll be your own."

"Will I?" she countered. "Just because you believe you'll die doesn't mean they'll welcome me back with open arms."

"If they knew your circumstances? I have no doubt they would take back the girl that they trusted. And you have Weasley to back you up."

"He knows nothing of what's gone on," Antha informed him. "His entire life has been burnt to the ground - the store - and I've tortured his family... Once he hears of all this, sees the damage I've caused, he will side with them."

"You think so little? That he will listen to it blindly?"

"Wouldn't you?" she asked quietly. "Haven't you? You've done it before... you've not listened to my side of things before you have punished me..."

"If it were anyone else, you would have died years ago," he stated simply. "I've listened to your side, even if it wasn't verbal. I've punished you, yes, but your punishment would and could have been a lot worse." She could admit that it was true. "You do not think that if he heard of these things, he would not think there was a reason...? That you were up to something?"

"Or perhaps he thinks I sold my soul to the devil?"

"For him, no? He would make the connection soon enough."

"Or think that I was completely corrupted in my stay here."

"Perhaps," he conceeded. She closed her eyes briefly, as if it condemned her from the Order with that simple sentence. It hurt to think about. When she opened them, Salazar was in front of her with a black book. The Bible.

"Can we keep reading?" he asked, hesitating as though this were a bad time.

Antha glanced at the Dark Lord and he nodded once. "Of course," Antha agreed, taking the book. She pulled her son, still in his fluffy towel, onto her lap, and began to read from where they had left off.


	19. Chapter 18: Robotic Instinct

The small cottage was minuscule compared to the other houses around. There was a few rose bushes in the front that obviously neglected some care, a series of upturned stones in the pathway that would break an ankle if someone were to walk along them unaware. Antha stared at the cottage, trying to find out if it was devoid of life. It looked shabby, if anything.

But she saw the flicker of light in the window. Candlelight. Smart girl. Antha let her heels click along the path as she walked quickly, and then she was knocking on the door frantically. "Please, let me in!" Antha cried, her voice mimicking that of a younger child. "Please, he's coming for me! Please-"

The door opened and Lavender gave a cry of fright as she saw the full grown woman. Antha gave her a small smirk. "Hello, Lavender... You should know better than to open the door for strangers."

The teen just two years younger than Antha tried to shut the cottage door, but Antha flicked her wand, causing the door to fly and hit the wall, the cottage shaking in it's uninhabitable sturdiness. Lavender squeaked in fear and stumbled back, nearly tripping over a foot rest. It was a single roomed place, obviously rebuilt from something that previously existed.

"Where's your parents, Brown?" Antha asked kindly, making a point to shut the door behind her. "I don't see Mummy and Daddy."

"What do you want from me?" Lavender whimpered. "If this is about Ron, I swear-"

"What about Ron?" Antha asked, smirking. The poor girl was torturing herself.

"I haven't seen him in ages," Lavender insisted. "This is about when we dated, right? I'm sorry for being so mean to you guys - I never meant to be mean to Hermione! I swear-"

Antha blinked. Oh, that wasn't what she thought the girl meant. "As useful as your information is, which I assure you, is not useful at all, tell me...Do you see him often?"

Lavender shook her head immediately, stumbling back as Antha took a step forward. "I told you, I haven't seen him in ages. Not since they went on the run. I can't help you find him."

Antha's lips twitched. "Is that surrender I hear?" She took a deep breath, as if smelling the small cottage. "Oh, my, and fear I smell?" Her grin turned into that of a shark and Philantha was quite obviously treating her as though she were the fish. "Do you want me to promise not to hurt you?"

Lavender seemed to think it was a trick, Antha always knew she was a smart girl somewhere in her licentious mind, but when she nodded, Antha knew that the small hope she had in her intelligence was gone. "I promise," Antha began, "that you will remember who is to win this war."

As Antha lifted her wand, Lavender's hand shot out and she began to beg. Always with the begging. "No, wait! Please, please, I don't care who wins-I really don't!"

"And I do care," Antha stated simply. "So, either you choose now or I choose for you."

Lavender began to cry then, and Antha wondered what Ron ever saw in the girl. She was a blubbering mess, weak... Then again, in these times, men seemed to want the comfort a woman's legs provided.

"Time's ticking," Antha sighed, inspecting her nails. "Five... four... three..."

The count continued, all the while Lavender made pleas for Antha to leave her alone. It didn't happen. Lavender's scream was piercing. So loud that it made the windows of the shack rattle. A crack of apparation halted the spell immediately, and Antha's wand was under the girl's throat. "Who did you call?"

"No one," Lavender whimpered.

"Who is visiting?"

"I don't know..." Antha didn't believe her. When the knock on the hut sounded, the obliviation spell was immediately cast on Lavender and a cloaking charm on Antha. The knock sounded again and Antha slipped out the door as Lavender opened it for Ron.

Oh, Ronald Weasley. This could get interesting. She couldn't hear whatever it was they were saying as the hut door shut, but soon she knew what followed. The sounds of their love making made Antha only slightly uncomfortable. It... well, it didn't sound like her and Tom's own. Theirs was full of need, of compassion... Antha wondered if this was how it was supposed to be... she didn't know. In all of the years she had been sexually active, never had it been by choice... This unsettled her. It wasn't what she was used to. It couldn't have been normal.

She apparated quickly, landing in her bedroom and breathing quickly. It wasn't supposed to be like that. It wasn't supposed to be like how she knew it... She knew that... She had always known it, but she didn't think it would be _that_ different. She didn't think it was... that it was like _that_.

"You're back sooner than I thought."

She turned around quickly, not expecting him to be waiting for her. "She was easy to break."

He assessed her, not quite believing her, before nodding. "Come, we have things to do."

"Things?" she questioned.

"Salazar needs to be properly conditioned on what he will be seeing frequently," Tom said simply. What? She must have still looked confused, but he continued. "Death Eaters have captured a few Muggles... Also, I believe Dean Thomas needs to be formally questioned."

Oh. In front of... in front of Salazar?

Oh.

She changed, before finally following him from the room, glancing at George briefly to see he was still sleeping. The ballroom was lined with Death Eaters, and four Muggles, as well as a roughed up Dean Thomas, were kneeling in the middle of the room. Salazar was standing beside Antha's father, his eyes immediately finding his mother's.

Antha's heels clicked along the ballroom floor until she reached Salazar, taking his hand and squeezing it firmly.

"Welcome," The Dark Lord greeted his Death Eaters. He watched the prisoners carefully. "Look at the treat we have, today." Dean was shaking. Antha knew he wasn't crying, but he was going through the after-effects of the Cruciatus. Merlin, what had they done to him?

The Dark Lord continued talking, until he turned to Antha. "Philantha, perhaps you'd like to be the first to go?"

"It would be an honor," Antha answered, and she gave Salazar's hand a squeeze, before letting go of him. He gave a frightened whimper, having listened to his father's words closely and knowing just what was about to transpire. The first Muggle screamed, causing Salazar to cover his ears.

Soon, Antha had exhausted each of the Muggles, and no more use to them, she killed them quickly. She'd find out their names later... Dean Thomas was left, unharmed from her, and shaking slightly, still. But now, it was from fear.

"What shall we do with him?" The Dark Lord asked those around him.

"He's not an inner Order member," Philantha said regretfully. "Only a member of the DA."

Tom made a noise in his throat and surveyed the dark boy shaking on his knees. "We'll give you a chance, Thomas... Tell me, what do you know about the Order's movements or Harry Potter's whereabouts?" Dean refused to answer, it was obvious by the way his eyes shut tightly, as though waiting for a curse to hit him. Oh, Dean... She didn't want to hurt him. "Very well. Antha?"

"Crucio," she whispered. The spell made him scream, louder than she had ever heard anyone scream for her torture curse before. That meant it was getting stronger... She hated the thought. She released the spell when the Dark Lord held up his hand, signalling to her.

"Perhaps that has loosened your tongue. Any information you want to share?"

"Go to hell," the Muggleborn spat to the Dark Lord. Antha winced as the Dark Lord's eyes flashed. He didn't tolerate insolence.

"Crucio!"

The spell seemed to be even stronger, and even when it was in place, Antha was putting shields up to prevent her from hesitating, from caring for the boy in front of her. She was in no position to bargain for his life. She had already used up all of her chips.

He didn't spill a single secret of the Order, of Harry, of anything going on with the DA. He knew them, Antha could see it in his eyes, but he wouldn't tell. He was a strong kid... stronger than she was at that age.

He was breathing sharply, shaking, his eyes squeezed shut as he lay curled on the floor. It was obvious he was in immense pain.

And then again. He was screaming, shaking, sobbing. She had never seen him broken, yet he wasn't broken... but he was close.

And then again. This time, a weapon was pressed against the Gryffindor's skin, holding him tightly so that if he moved, it would slice. He couldn't help but move when the Cruciatus hit him, and his screams became even louder.

And then again. He didn't have much voice to scream anymore, but the sound that came out was choking, praying to be released, yet not aloud. His body was curled up in on itself, as it he could protect himself, but Antha knew he wouldn't. Even thinking he could was futile. How could someone protect themselves if they didn't even have a wand?

Him keeping silent was the only thing keeping him alive.

They weren't enemies of her own, though they were enemies solely of his. They cackled, asking her to attack as well. And so she did, when asked, but otherwise stepped out of it, standing just a few paces forward from where Salazar stood.

"We will resume the questioning tomorrow," The Dark Lord said during a pause in the screaming. "Perhaps a night in the dungeons will loosen his tongue."

Dean was smart enough to stay silent. Or perhaps he just didn't have the energy to retort.

The meeting was adjourned. When Antha turned, she assessed Salazar. He was crying, shaking, and staring at Dean with an urge to help him. She stepped toward Salazar and grabbed his arm, ignoring the boy's flinch.

She leaned into Salazar's ear, whispering. "He will be properly cared for."

"You hurt him," Salazar whispered.

She knew she did. She glanced at Dean, the bleeding friend dying. She couldn't save him. She had run out of cards to play, and favors owed to her. George was an expensive price she had paid. "He will be fine."

"Are you sure?" She nodded. She led him from the ballroom quickly and by the time they reached her bedroom, he broke down into sobbing fits. Antha's heart broke for him. She remembered what had happened to her, just before he was born... It was the first experience with torture and death she had ever remembered... Before that, she had been even younger than that... She didn't remember that though, she just knew that her mother exposed her to everything during the first war. It was why Antha had always been able to see the Threstrals.

"I had to hurt him," Antha told her son quietly, clutching him to her. "Daddy made me hurt him." It was horrible of her to pin this on the Dark Lord, but she had to... she was selfish enough to make her son only care for her. "If I didn't hurt him, Daddy would have hurt both of us... I didn't want Daddy to hurt you."

He sniffled, but didn't calm down.

So he cried into her chest, and cried... And no matter what Antha said, he wouldn't stop. It was like each tear that soaked into the torso of her gown was melting her... was making her reflect on what had just occurred. That couldn't happen... if that happened, she'd recount everything before that, too... and then she'd break. She'd be like her mother.

When he did stop sobbing, she pulled back to see his face. He had fallen asleep. She swallowed. When he was born she had wanted to protect him from this... she wanted him to be normal, to see normal things.

Rising, she carried him to the bed and tucked him beside unconscious ginger. As soon as Nagini curled up on her son, as well, the door cracked open and the Dark Lord strode through.

"He's asleep," Antha said quietly. She moved away and began to pull pins from her hair, letting the curls tumble down. She had thrown it up quickly before she went to the ballroom, but already it had begun to ache. The Dark Lord nodded and moved towards the window, allowing her to change into something that wasn't soaked through with her son's tears. It ended up being a rather simple dress that hugged her figure, while also leaving much to the imagination.

Facing the Dark Lord, she found he didn't give her the privacy she had believed. "You behaved admirably this evening," he stated.

Her face must have showed her surprise at his compliment. "What is it you want?"

"Is your presence not an adequate answer?"

No, it wasn't. She smiled briefly, however, to show that it was acceptable, and then walked towards the messy book case. Salazar must have been trying to find books to read. She knew he was starting to learn, and the elves were teaching him, but these books were much too advanced for him.

She paused, the Bible held firmly in her hands. Salazar had been reading it, she could tell by the dog eared corner a few pages in. "Do you remember when we first met each other... Before I knew who you were?"

"Yes."

"You were so..." She bit her lip, trying to think of an appropriate adjective. She couldn't find one. "Perfect... So human." She pushed herself up, setting the Bible in its appropriate spot. "Will you ever be like that again? Sit with me in the grass and... and talk about nothing? Will Salazar ever see that side of you?"

He considered what she said. "That moment in time, I was fresh... brand new to this form." She nodded. She knew that. "I was still connected with the human life it had been created with-"

"Dorcas Meadowes," Antha said quietly. She knew.

"Yes." Tom pulled open the curtain by the window, peering outside. "I used Dorcas Meadowes soul in order to create the horcrux within Nagini... And with Nagini's venom, I was brought into this life." He turned to glance at her. "Bits and pieces of Meadowes' compassion were prominent in the first few weeks, until my own soul began to dominate."

"So... she's technically living _in_ you," Antha said softly.

"She was... once I had life, I stole hers. My soul dominated her soul, strangled the life out of it... which is why you won't see that side of me again." She frowned slightly, in disappointment. She wanted nothing more than to see that side... she just wanted something. Her encounter with Lavender's tryst had created that want within her. She hesitated, not wanting to continue the conversation, but knowing he would press it. "That Gryffindor tendency... disgusting, really, is gone."

She nodded, understanding. "I just wanted to know if he'll ever know true compassion, or if it will be artificial?"

He smirked, and she knew the answer before he even said it. "Were you ever given true compassion?"

"No."

"Then he'll be fine."

She nodded. She wasn't fine, though. She was... she was just like her mother... she was losing it. "He'll never know the man you are... just the monster you hide behind."

He tensed his jaw, but didn't seem in the mood to strike. "No one knows the man I am."

"I do," Antha said quietly. "I saw him, I talked to him and was able to enjoy life with him... Can I not have that?"

"No one will. He's gone... long gone." She nodded, looking down at her folded hands and playing with the bracelet upon her wrist. "I'll leave you... but I expect you to come to my rooms tonight."

She nodded carefully, and listened as his footsteps walked towards the door. Suddenly, so quietly she was almost sure she missed it, there was a groan coming from the direction of the bed. She had never looked over so quickly in her life. George was stirring, his mouth opening as he took a breath and his hand coming to his head, as though it hurt.

The Dark Lord immediately froze, and she held her breath. Merlin, he was awake.


	20. Chapter 19: Playing Opossum

The bright eyes of George Weasley opened, unable to focus entirely from his long sleep. Nagini hissed and George suddenly froze. Antha glanced towards the Dark Lord, but the man was just staring disdainfully towards the bed.

"Where will you take him?"

Antha hesitated, thinking through her options. His parents would rejoice, and likely kill her on the spot, making his survival known to the whole world. Bill was an obvious choice, but too difficult to locate. She just knew he lived on the coast somewhere. Charlie would provide secrecy, but he was much too far away. Andy... she would keep him hidden, but Antha doubted she could face the woman... not after Ted. It only left one person she absolutely trusted.

"Fred."

He nodded once, his eyes flickering over her, kneeling in front of the bookshelf. "You have twenty five minutes."

And he was gone. Antha moved to George immediately, tossing the books she was clutching in her hands to the side, and nearly tripped over her own feet. He was blinking, trying to focus on what was going on around him. When he finally had his bearings, she smiled gently, hovering over him. "You're awake," she greeted him quietly.

"I feel like hell," he muttered. He squinted to look at her before glancing around him, slowly, as though his muscles were stiff. "Where are we?"

"You're in my bedroom," Antha told him softly. She glanced at the snake, a heavy weight on his chest and hissing quietly at the boy that had awoken. She seemed to understand that her favorite heat source would be moving away. "Nagini, away."

The snake hissed in disdain at Antha, showing its two very large fangs, before doing as asked. Antha cast a few spells on George, making sure he was well enough to move, let alone apparate. "Malfoy Manor..." At Antha's nod, he blinked before trying to sit up. "I'm starting to remember some things."

"Good," Antha admitted. She felt his forehead, finding it slightly warm, but he'd live. A fever was normal, and meant the curse was still being worked off. "You were cursed. An object you touched somewhere... It was a very close call." He nodded. He seemed to remember. "You're healed, though. You're better. I need to take you to Fred."

He blinked at her, confused. "Why not Mum and Dad? How long have I-?"

She cut him off, "The world believes you're dead, George. It was necessary at the time... Your life was important." She lifted him to his feet and he swayed a little. Antha caught him and clutched him tightly to her. Merlin, he needed a bath. "If I take you to Fred, you must do your best to keep the world believing you're dead... Not only does your life depend on it, George, but Salazar and mine as well."

"What do you-?" She apparated before he could finish, landing in the middle of the flat that she had once visited often. It had been rebuilt almost immediately. One of the first to be fixed amongst its neighbors. And she knew the WWW workers were using their newfound wealth to build the shops around them that were struggling. Kind deeds. It was what the twins were full of these days... what the Order was full of.

She froze immediately, lowering George into a chair, when footsteps sounded behind her.

"Come back to burn it again, Lestrange?" Fred asked sharply.

"I ask for only a moment to explain," Antha said stiffly. She turned slowly, making sure Fred understood she didn't have a wand anywhere near her hands. "I've come to return something to you."

Having stepped aside, she saw Fred falter slightly. "He's a fake," Fred snapped, swallowing to make his body tense once more. "I saw the body. You delivered it yourself." Fred's wand jabbed in George's direction, and she saw the earless twin flinch at the unexpected hostility.

"The body I delivered was the fake," Antha said simply, as though explaining to a small child. She detected a crumbling resolve as Fred kept looking at his brother. "You can check the body you buried, now. Instead of remains, it will look the same as the day I delivered it... I used Glamour Charms, Fred. They last longer."

"What?" George asked, confused. Antha turned slightly towards him, to acknowledge he was talking, but didn't move her gaze from Fred. He was the one with the wand, not George. "I've only been out for two days, right?" Two days? How in the world could he have come to the assumption of two days?

"A week and a half," Antha answered, her tone factual... almost Granger bossy. "I know you have no reason to trust me," she addressed to Fred. "I'm not looking for your trust. I'm not the person you once knew, but I promise you, with whatever kindness or character or respect you have left for me - otherwise I'm quite sure I'd be carted to the Ministry at this point in our encounter - that this is the real George." Fred was silent, offering no response, just a wand to the face, and no further movement.

She continued, "With his return to you, I only ask of you ... one thing." She paused a moment, waiting for his reply, but he was still silent. "You must still act like he is dead. No one, not even your parents, Lee, Verity, or your brothers must know he's alive. It's very vital... When you go to the Burrow, or to work, or to Order meetings, you must function the same as if he was dead."

Fred scoffed. "And why not, Lestrange? What does it matter to you? Want to take the sick pleasure in knowing that we're all grieving?"

"I went through tremendous lengths to ensure his safety," Antha answered quickly. "To ensure everyone believed he was dead. I don't want Death Eaters to catch wind, to attack here and make sure there are no survivors. Can I trust you with this? If I cannot, I will wipe your memory of this encounter and take him somewhere else."

Fred was silent a moment and she almost grabbed George to leave, when Fred spoke. "Prove it's him."

She couldn't prove it. Only George could. "Then ask him something only your twin would know."

Fred hesitated. She could see the red around his eyes, the grief in his face. Merlin, it had to have been hard for him. She couldn't imagine loosing someone closer than a brother, like George had been. Since she knew them, they never left each other's side, always had told their secrets... they were closer than anyone Antha had ever known or heard about.

Fred seemed to decide on an event only George would know about. "What was the name of the girl that lived a few houses down? She was the first bird I ever kissed."

George seemed confused a moment, like he was trying to remember. "The first girl you ever kissed was Mum. And the second was Angelina Johnson, after the first firewhiskey you ever had. And there was no girl that lived a few houses down, unless you're talking about Lovegood. And if you kissed her, mate, I might have to file some incest charges as well as a pedophilia charge. She's the same age as Gin, for Merlin's sake."

Fred glanced at Antha for a moment, his jaw tensing. "Why did you fake his death?" Apparently it was the correct answer.

"That's not important," Antha said quietly. She took a deep breath to calm down. "Can you conceal him?"

"I have a spare room in my suite. . . We rebuilt his room, for the girls if they felt safer to stay- but it'd be too risky to keep him in his room."

Antha nodded. "Good... then he stays here." She turned to George. "You don't do a single thing that will make you be seen, do you understand? You tell no one you're alive. Not until the Dark Lord is dead and my son's life is no longer in jeopardy with Death Eaters. Do you understand?"

"When the Order wins," George confirmed.

Antha nodded, seeing the confusion on his face, still. He would understand soon. "No matter what happens in the future, George, I did what I could to let you have a life to live." She hugged him suddenly, overwhelmed with the thought of putting his very vulnerable life in the hands of others. He was the safest with her at the Manor, but she didn't know for how long. People would frequently stop by her room, and some would barge in. She barely had time to cast a concealment charm before they glanced in his direction.

"Where are you going back to?" George asked, his arms tight as though he'd never see her again. He wouldn't. Not until the Dark Lord launched a full scale battle.

Antha shook her head as she pulled away. She glanced at Fred and was embarrassed to find tears in her eyes. She tugged on her dress awkwardly, drawing Fred's attention to her rather nice outfit. "I have twenty minutes until I have to go back-" she began.

"That's enough time to escape... You can stay here," George interrupted. To him, what he said sound perfectly reasonable. Antha knew it would never work. The Dark Lord knew where she was going, and his life wouldn't be spared if she disobeyed... Besides, Salazar... she couldn't risk Salazar. "Right, Fred?" He rose, still a little wobbly, but looking at his twin hopefully.

Fred met Antha's eyes, and stared at her a moment, as if expecting her to repent all of her sins. But she didn't, because she couldn't. She had to remain loyal to the Dark Lord. To the Dark Side. He gazed at her dress again, a fancy one that had blood stains from Dean Thomas, still. Finally, he shook his head, his jaw set and his gaze hard. "No, she's not welcome here."

"What's she ever done to you?" George demanded. "I'd be dead-"

"That's the thing, George! You were dead," Fred snapped, his wand no longer pointed at Antha, but instead gesturing around wildy as Fred gestured. "For two weeks. Mum's been mental. I've been mental. You're my other half and what did she do? She shows up at the Burrow, and she's carrying your dead body!"

George glanced at Antha sharply. "What?"

Antha swallowed. "It was a fake. George got ill, and I needed the Death Eaters to believe him dead in order for me to heal him... He was in a coma... I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you, but you have your brother back now. Maybe it's not enough to forgive me, but forgive him... He did not know of anything. He was out... As soon as I smashed the mirror, he was... he doesn't know anything I've done-"

"What have you done, then?" Fred asked sarcastically. It was a rhetorical question, but one he was going to answer himself, as well. "You killed Madame Malkin. You tortured those little kids right in front of everyone. You laughed as people burned alive." Antha didn't flinch. She didn't know Madame Malkin had died, but she knew the others. "The Antha we knew would regret it every single second," Fred continued. "You don't. You're not her. You're... some Death Eater whore."

Then she flinched. She knew that. It just hurt to hear aloud... She was a whore that slept with the Dark Lord purely for her own pleasure, she knew that. "Oh, come, Freddie," Antha said sarcastically. "You've seen it. I beg for it, don't I?" Fred flinched. "I want him to fuck me. I want him to be inside of me-"

George grabbed her arm as she took a step towards Fred. She stopped immediately, deflating. She wasn't her anymore. Her actions just then proved that. She glanced at George and felt an overwhelming urge to cry. "Please, I'm just asking you to hide him. There are spies everywhere. The slightest word and I'm... I'm dead. Salazar's dead... The Death Eaters will lead a coup for what I've done for George... Please, just keep him safe. For me."

"I wouldn't do anything for you," Fred swore. "Not ever again."

"I know." She exhaled. "For him, then. Do it for him."

"Does your lover know you saved him?" Fred demanded.

"Yes," Antha said carefully. "He does. And George is in danger, because of it. It's too dangerous to keep him in the Manor. With the raids becoming more frequent, people are starting to come to my room and ask questions... I can't keep him concealed there for long, or I would have. So, can you please do this?"

"Will you come back? Will you stay away from him?"

"You'll never see me again," Antha promised. "Not in person. Perhaps the papers for everything I'm going to do... News that celebrates things I've done... That I will do." She swallowed. "We'll never see each other again, unless you're on the battlefield. I can promise that much."

"If I ever see you again, it'll be too soon."

"What else has happened?" George demanded suddenly. "You wouldn't hate her just over my death. Antha was your sister. She's always been-"

"She burned it down," Fred interrupted. "Our shop. Kids still inside. Lee. Verity. Everyone. We only just finished rebuilding two days ago. She's become a monster. She's lied to us our whole lives."

She smiled bitterly, knowing it was true. "And I'll always be sorry for it. But I have to say I'm sorry now, because in a few more weeks... I don't think I'll be sorry any longer."

"I don't think you're sorry now," Fred said firmly, his tone haughty.

"Then it's working," Antha said factually. "You two, as well as the rest of the Order, won't care for me after this Saturday."

"What's this Saturday?"

Antha grinned, stepping out of George's grasp and procurring her wand from her person. Fred tensed, his wand pointed straight between her eyes. "Don't you dare-"

"I have a man to marry, and he's awaiting my return. But don't tell, it's a secret that'll shock the Wizarding World's foundations," Antha said simply. She stepped back and bit her lip before apparating in a single crack. And with her leaving, the last bit of emotion she felt was with him, and gone from her.

She arrived in her bedroom, surprised to find the Dark Lord back, and another figure in George's place. "Oh, Tom, if this is how you're going to gift me, I would have married you much sooner." Her sarcastic tone wasn't lost on him. "Another boy that isn't my intended? Imagine the scandal if the papers were to find out."

"I'm curious... what will you give up for him?" Tom questioned. Her playful tone was immediately gone. He was willing to bargain for Dean's life?

"What more do you want?" Antha asked, stepping to look at Dean. He was still bleeding, his body broken and battered, but thankfully unconscious. He couldn't feel the pain at least. "I am currently giving you all that I can."

"I want you willing," Tom said firmly. "Whenever I want you, I want you willing."

She swallowed. Willing? She didn't know how to do that... she didn't know the first thing- Overhearing Lavender and Ron had... it had made her question everything she knew. How could she be willing for him? She couldn't stand closer than a foot to him without feeling like she was caged.

"That is all? Why would you want to spare his life?" She glanced to the Dark Lord, confused. "What could his life possibly mean to me that you are willing to bargain for it?"

"He was traveling with Ted Tonks. I figured that meant something to you."

He figured. That meant he didn't know. He was at a complete loss. For some reason, her heart clenched as she figured out why he was doing this. He was doing it for her. He was trying to... to do something nice for her. Even if it was in this way... it was something. And it was something that she couldn't throw away.

"All you want is me willing? To sleep with you as though our lust knows no bounds?" At his firm nod, she found herself nodding as well. "Then... I'm willing." He seemed to expect this response.

"Heal him."

She stepped towards the bed and immediately began casting spells to heal him, but thankfully his injuries weren't as bad as George's. He awoke and jerked away from her touch as he realized who it was that was cradling his head, healing a black eye.

"Don't touch me!" he hissed.

"Stay still. I'm trying to heal you," she returned sharply. When Dean caught sight of the Dark Lord, still observing her as she worked, he seemed to panic.

"Why? So you can start all over again?" His voice had wavered, showing just how terrified he actually was. "You might as well kill me. I'm not telling you anything."

Antha laughed quietly. "You're not being tortured, Dean..." She finished healing his eye and stepped away from him, letting him sit up. "Do you have anywhere safe to go?"

He glanced at the Dark Lord, before glancing back at her. "Why?"

"So you can go there," she said slowly. "Why else?"

"Oh, I don't know, so you can burn it down?" Dean snapped sarcastically.

"You're starting to hang around Seamus too much," she observed. Her gaze flickered to the Dark Lord. "Should I apparate him or shove him in the Floo?"

"Do what you'll like," the Dark Lord responded. "I'll make an excuse for your absence." Her bedroom door shut almost loudly and she feared Salazar had woken, but with a quick glance, her son was still sleeping soundly, a thumb shoved into his mouth.

"Where are we going?" she asked firmly, staring at the dark skinned boy that had been dying.

"I'm not telling you anything," he repeated sharply.

"Then I'll force it out of you," Antha said simply. "I really don't want to. I value the fact that my bedroom doesn't have any blood in it-"

"Your bedroom?" Dean demanded. "What, the Dark Lord doesn't sleep here? Everyone knows your chummy with him. Ted mentioned it often enough-"

Her teeth ground together and her temper was quickly wavering. "Shut up and tell me where I'm taking you."

"Do you want me to shut up or keep talking?" Dean returned cheekily.

"Your Gryffindor bravery won't save you for long," she hissed. Her hand gripped the torn shirt, pulling him close to her. "Where?"

"Hogsmeade," he said after a second.

"What?" she snapped.

"That's where I want to go," he stated firmly. "Take me to Hogsmeade."

But the Snatchers... If he had a death wish so be it. Her wand was pointed firmly between his eyes in an instant and he flinched, obviously not nearly as brave as he thought he was. "Obliviate."

She erased all of the encounter following him appearing in her room. If he wanted Hogsmeade, he was going to get it.


	21. Chapter 20: White Wedding

The elves worked diligently to clean the sheets of any blood that may have stained it from George or Dean. Her room was in pristine condition the entire week, the elves almost excited for the upcoming nuptuals. She had been staring in front of the mirror all evening, trying to give herself the pep talk. After three hours, it wasn't working. She just simply had no idea how to be... well, willing.

So she requested a lust potion to give her some added kick. The Dark Lord has summoned her four hours ago, and she had until nine in the evening to show. Which was only twenty minutes from now.

The potion arrived two minutes after request and she drank it quickly, feeling it kick in almost immediately. Confidence, sexiness... it wasn't her, but maybe it's what he wanted

When she showed up, she shut the door behind her and glanced to the Dark Lord. Though the potion was still coursing through her system, she felt... well, the sight of him still made her stomach drop in fear.

She hated him with so much, that she didn't think the potion would change anything.

But apparently it was noticeable, the difference. As he went to strip her, pushing her roughly towards the bed, she boldly reached for the tie on his robes, and began to pull it off of him.

"What are you doing?" he questioned, pausing.

"I thought you wanted me to," she pouted. He curled his lip, grabbing her jaw and looking into her eyes, turning it this way and that to get the light into them.

"What did you take?"

She hesitated. A lust potion was only supposed to get the action started. It was only supposed to entice the evening, not work through it. So it was wearing off, making her feel once more like Antha. "Nothing."

"Don't lie."

She swallowed. "A lust potion."

He growled in disgust and shoved her face away from him, throwing her clothes to her and storming away. "I'm trying!" she called, making him stop. She felt so emotional that tears appeared in her eyes. "I've never known... I'm sorry, I'm trying... I just thought maybe the potion would teach me something... I don't know... I'm sorry... I'm trying to make you happy, I really am..." She dropped her gaze to the floor. "I just don't know how."

"It's done with feeling, Philantha."

"Excuse me for knowing no other... association with sex than a man using me solely for his pleasure. I don't know what to do here. I have no knowledge of what to do other than pray for it to be over, because it's painful, it's degrading, it's stressful..." She shook her head, staring at him as he watched her. "I'll admit it, I have no idea what I'm doing. When I was at Lavender Brown's, earlier in the week, and ... I heard things... things I've never heard before. I don't know what I'm missing, what I'm not doing... Everytime I think about, I get this image... of you just... of you and I can't... I can't get past that."

He sneered at her. "Then you're useless."

"I'm trying to learn, and this was my last resort. I'm sorry... I'm trying to give you what you want-"

"I don't want you to drug yourself for it," he snapped. "Do you trust me?"

"I do," she admitted. "Because I know without your trust, I would have died long ago."

"Then what more do you need?"

She sobbed. "I don't know. I don't know anything about this... I'm sorry."

"Leave," he said shortly. "I'll deal with you later."

"No, we can try again," she said quickly. "I promise-"

"No, leave. I have a meeting with Severus in an hour."

She felt as though she had been slapped. She swallowed, nodding, before gathering her clothing in her hands and apparating to her room.

The wedding was the next day. She worried... was he growing bored of her? Disappointed she wasn't living up to his expectations of a dutiful wife? She slept uneasily that night, and was awoken by a house-elf demanding she wake. It was time to get her ready.

The wedding was to take place at eleven, in the grand ballroom, with a miriad of Death Eaters, their wives, and the Daily Prophet. Antha wondered when the Dark Lord had infiltrated the news... but she really wasn't all that surprised, either.

Her dress was a pale cream color, nearly white, and made of many pieces of lace and tattered fabric. She felt like a goddess, of course, but it just... wasn't her. It wasn't what she wanted, not really. She made it grand simply because it was the Dark Lord, and a wedding with him requiredgrandeur.

Once she was ready, she walked by herself down the main staircase and waited outside of the doors to the ballroom until she was summoned by an elf. It was simply the way things worked.

She was summoned stiffly, and the doors were pulled open, revealing a congregation of Death Eaters seated on both sides. Her father was waiting for her, a sick grin on his face as he took her arms. He offered no comment to her beauty, nor questioned why her scars were hidden by glamours. She didn't want them to be seen. They walked in silence together, until she reached the altar where Tom was waiting, dressed in black and white formal dress robes. He was in his Voldemort form.

The ceremony was barely longer than a half hour, consisting of a hand fasting and ring exchange ritual, requiring the incantation of magic and the exchange of blood through a slit palm.

It wasn't sanitary in the slightest, but it was tradition... a couple's magic was theoretically one. Once the marriage ritual was over, they kissed each other in what appeared to be a soft kiss, but was truly nothing more than a peck. She didn't want to think about what tonight would bring.

The Prophet wanted pictures, for the announcement article, so they posed, Antha doing her best to appear happy with her new future. She wasn't. She couldn't.

They sat at opposite ends of the feast table, the Death Eaters chatting, planning, drinking. The Dark Lord rose suddenly and all was silent. "My wife and I have an announcement to make," he spoke. An announcement? She felt cold. What? "We are expecting a daughter by year's end." Antha choked on the pumpkin juice she had been drinking, and set it down carefully as the Death Eaters all began to clap and offer congratulations. "And for that reason, we'll be retiring early for the evening..."

He gestured for her to stand and she did so, pushing her chair out behind her with a loud scraping noise. As he walked around, towards her side, he seized her arm, pressing it into his side. "Shall we, my dear?"

"Of course," she said calmly. Her heart was racing as the doors shut behind them and then the chatter of the Death Eaters once more resumed. Her bedroom door was once a security, but when the Dark Lord was on the same side of it as she was, it was... just a piece of wood.

"I have a meeting with Severus this evening... apparently there is defiance against the new rules... We will spend the day together tomorrow, instead of tonight." He looked her over, noting how her tense shoulders relaxed slightly. "Rest well."

"And you, Tom," she answered quietly. But she was confused. He wasn't going to... it was tradition a husband sleep with his wife on the night of the wedding. He had pushed for tradition. The whole day was full of tradition. He left, off to his meeting, no doubt. A secret meeting with Severus, as it no doubt was, would best be left undetected if everyone thought the Dark Lord was busy with his new prize.

An owl pecked on her window and she found the Evening Prophet clutched in its talons. They had printed the story already?

_He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Takes a Wife!_

_by Rita Skeeter  
><em>

_The late hours of last night, the Prophet was invited to the exclusive wedding of the Dark Lord and his beautiful bride in the Death Eater headquarters. The bride, as pictured below, is the on-again-off-again Death Eater spy Philantha Lucinda Lestrange. Her beautiful dress was a million galleons in price, designed only for her and her alone. Mrs. Riddle, nineteen years of age, has been seeing the Dark Lord for, reportedly, four years now. Her adopted son with her new husband, Salazar, is turning four this year. Salazar, technically Philantha's brother, is being raised as the couple's heir to the Riddle name.  
><em>

_The wedding, which took place this morning, consisted of family, Death Eaters, and very few reporters. _The Daily Prophet _has the complete wedding coverage on A5._

_Philantha had no bridesmaids for the evening, standing at the alter in the ballroom by herself, her husband equally as accompanied. She wore diamonds and her scars - which she received from her late mother - were hidden by glamour charms. Philantha had a secretive smile on her face, like she was in on a secret that no one else knew. That secret later became known at the feast when the Dark Lord announced she was pregnant. Mr. and Mrs. Riddle are expecting a daughter by the end of the year._

_How can Mrs. Riddle hide her bump so well? Apparently there is Dark Magic in the works. Her baby bump is able to be hidden by an ancient spell the Dark Lord himself has discovered. Read B2 to find out what names the Wizarding World believes the little girl will be named and join in on the polls!  
><em>

_Everyone at the _Daily Prophet_ wishes their best to the happy couple and their family. They seem very much in love.  
><em>

Antha looked at the picture accompanied with the article. They didn't look in love at all. Antha was stiff at the Dark Lord's side, her eyes dead and her smile as heartbreaking as her mother's. She looked... detatched, if anything. And the Dark Lord... looked triumphant.

She folded the paper and tossed it away from her, snorting. The Dark Lord had what he wanted now.

"The Order believes it." Snape. She glanced towards him at her bedroom door. "They think you've been seeing him for years... in secret. That the dark magic to cover your bump was the only lie in the article. They know of the potion."

Antha nodded. "Good. They should believe it."

"They worry you've gone dark for good."

"For someone on our side, Severus, you seem to be awfully informed about the Order," Antha stated sharply.

Snape smirked, picking up the paper as he looked at the front page. "Yes, well, the Order isn't exactly quiet, hmm? And children whisper in the halls." He gave her a cold stare. "And your thoughts on this article?"

"It's rubbish. You know just as well as I that the Dark Lord and I were wed for mutual affection towards the other."

"Hmmm, do I?" Severus set the paper down so it was in Antha's line of vision. "So in love, yes. I trust you'll be taking it easy?"

"Of course."

"Good, then also know that the Weasley Wizard Wheezes are suddenly opporating like nothing happened. Some even say that the single twin left is acting a bit unlike himself." Antha blinked at him, trying to figure out if he was baiting her. "I was under the impression I'd be administering a Polyjuice Potion, but you instead killed him."

"The Dark Lord found no more interest in him," Antha said simply. "I did as asked."

"As always," Severus intoned. "Very well. I must cut this visit short, then. Hogwarts is demanding. I can see why Albus went on holiday frequently."

"Yes," Antha agreed. "I'm sure that was the reason. Be sure to send my regards to the students. I'm told a leader's involvement with the children reflects well."

"Told by whom?"

Antha shrugged. "No idea." She tucked her knees to her chest, the small bump pressing against the tops of her thighs. "Has he told you anything?"

"Who?"

"Tom. Does he warn you of anything before you visit me?"

"No." Severus admitted quietly. "He trusts me wholly."

"How do I know where your loyalties lie?"

"I wouldn't be telling you that your lover Weasley is up and about taking over Weasley Wizard Wheezes otherwise. I also wouldn't be here alone with you if the Dark Lord didn't think I was solely loyal to him."

"He's planning on killing you," Antha said quietly. She felt a rush of tears approaching and met his eyes as he seemed surprised. "At the battle. You have possession of the Elder Wand. We all know it's Draco, but... Please, don't go to him if he calls. It's not worth it. He knows the battle will be his end. Don't give him that chance... that chance to win. You have to live. You have to keep Draco alive." She sobbed and stared at the blankets at her feet, the covers she had pulled back from her bed. He sat at the foot of her bed, angled towards her. "I don't want to be trapped here forever."

"You won't be." He cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "Don't cry. You know how I feel about women crying."

She laughed quietly. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't feel anything anymore. I've become a shell, and whenever I do feel something, it's this overwhelming urge to cry and it usually means my barriers aren't strong enough around some memories."

He reached for her and smoothed her hair, soothing her only slightly. "I'm more concerned that you're shielding too much."

"Maybe," Antha admitted. "Have you met with Cissy?"

"She's hiding," Severus answered. "She is with the Tonks at the moment, reuniting with her sister until more suitable safe homes can be secured."

"Good," Aquila nodded. "She was so worried she'd be trapped too. At least she's out."

"She worries about you. I assure her you're doing better."

"I hope so, at least," Antha murmured. She rubbed her hands against her legs before taking Severus's hand. "You're my only friend now, Severus." She held it tightly and let out a deep breath. "Does he scare you, too? Or have you become numb over the years?"

He was silent a moment, sighing. "You become numb, but there are times where he can surprise you." Antha nodded and glanced toward the hand she had grasped tightly. "He frightens you, doesn't he? You tell him he doesn't, but he does. And then when there's an inadequate amount of affection towards him, he takes it out on you-"

"And then is surprised when I recoil like I'm a slave." Antha finished it bitterly and let go of his hand. "And then he fucks me like I'm a dutiful wife. And then he gives me gifts as an act of an apology. And then he does it again. And then the gifts. And again. And again and again." She clenched her hand into a fist and reached suddenly to the nightstand, grabbing a candle. It was lit and she let the wax drip onto her open palm. "I feel nothing anymore. It doesn't burn. It doesn't sooth. I feel numb. And then heartbreak. And then numb. And then heartbreak. There's nothing else. There's nothing better. He's cruel, and he's lovely, and he's vile and he protects Salazar."

"Lovely?" Severus scoffed. "He's anything but lovely."

"He saved George. He keeps me alive. He keeps Salazar protected. It's enough for me."

"For you to stay," Severus nodded.

"I have no where else to go," Antha whispered. "I will never have anywhere else to go."

"You always will. You're Antha."

She sobbed again and dropped the candle, the fire going out and she peeled the wax off of her skin, listening to the silence of the room as she tried to control her emotions. "I am Philantha. I am not Antha anymore. I'm not your student anymore. I'm not your fellow Death Eater anymore. I'm not human anymore."

"More human than most of us," Severus disagreed. "The Dark Lord is awaiting my arrival in an hour." He was silent a moment. "Do you want to go somewhere?"

"Where?" Antha muttered. "Where can we possibly go? I can't go anywhere. I'm a prisoner. I so much as breathe wrong and he knows."

"Does he know about the others?" Severus asked suddenly. "Last time you were here."

"Yes." She swallowed. "He can't do anything to me while I'm pregnant, but I expect a punishment for letting the men do anything to me." She exhaled. "I'm so tired of him. Of them. I don't even know if I know how to love him properly. He's so quick about it, and I suppose that's best. But how do I convince him that I'm trying to love him? How do I convince him I do, without truly convincing myself?"

Severus didn't have an answer, it seemed. "He says you've never slept with Weasley."

"No."

"Anyone but him? And the others?"

"No," Antha admitted quietly. "It was too dangerous in school. I knew he was looking for me, waiting for me. If he found out about any of my friends... I couldn't risk that. Maybe I should have. He can only hurt who he can get his hands on." She swallowed. "Is it possible to teach me?" He glanced at her sharply, but she continued. "Not ... not phsyically, no. If he starts to believe me in love with him... will he stop? Will he stop hurting me?" She took a breath, energized with her new idea. She lurched forward, grabbing his shoulders. "Can you teach me how to love him? He believes your words, he believes your loyalty."

"You already say what you can to a man that knows where your heart truly lies. He doesn't believe your words because he knows they aren't true. So, make your actions true."

She dropped her hands from him, her excitement gone. She shook her head and rose from the bed, hugging her arms to her. "I don't know how. I try. I try to love him. I try to show him. I don't know how. He doesn't let me."

"So tell him to let you," Severus stated blandly. She walked towards a mirror, seeing the dark circles under her eyes and the thinness of her face. She needed to sleep more. She needed to eat more. She needed to stop stressing out.

"How?" Antha asked him. "When? When he's holding me down? When I'm asking him to stop - no, begging?" She heard him get up from the bed and approach. "He doesn't listen to me anymore. All that's important is the war. I have no further use. He has me and he's growing bored."

"If he grew bored, you'd be dead," Severus stated. "You're not, so he's not." He was right behind Antha, staring into the mirror over her shoulder.

"What makes a woman enticing, Severus?" Antha questioned. "What makes her beautiful to you? How do you know she loves you?" Antha glanced away from herself as her eyes dropped to her scars. "Or the Dark Lord. What entices him?"

"You do, obviously." Severus exhaled roughly. "The Dark Lord and I have different tastes. He prefers someone young enough to be his great granddaughter. I prefer women my own age." She wrinkled her nose at the reminder. "Willingness is a plus."

She snorted, turning to face him. "Have you ever raped a woman?"

"No, nor do I want to," Severus stated coldly.

"It's a difference," Antha answered. She dropped her gaze from him and sighed. "You're leaving aren't you? When will you next arrive? A week from now once he's thoroughly bruised me again?"

"Bruised?"

She grimaced. "I talk back. He likes it, but he also likes to punish."

Severus gave her a cold look that clearly told her she was an idiot. She knew that already. Change in her behavior would make him suspicious. "I cannot tell you how to love him, nor how to convince him," Severus told her simply. She nodded and turned away, moving towards the Prophet. Her dead face stared back at her. She needed to work on her face. Her emotions. If she could fake that, she could maybe convince him. It was worth a try. "I can ... I can show you."

She stood straighter before turning to glance at Severus. "He'd torture you if he found out."

"He can't kill me yet," Severus reminded her. "Opportune moment."

She rolled her eyes. "You just want to get laid, Severus." He shook his head, snorting to himself. "Why would you do this?"

"You asked me for help," Severus reminded her. "I can't tell you. I can only teach you."

"Will an hour be long enough to teach me?" Antha asked. It wasn't that she was adverse to the idea, it was the fact that he was her friend... her only friend, really. Draco was... well, he was more distant these days.

He nodded once and she sat at the edge of her bed, watching as he approached her cautiously. "The goal," he told her, "is to seek pleasure for yourself. It will show him that... well, it will show him that you find pleasure in him. So, the more pleasure you-"

"Got it, just stop saying the word pleasure," Antha said immediately, laughing slightly. She was quiet a moment as he took his cloak off. "Is this weird? We've known each other for ages."

"The goal is that you stop thinking," Severus stated. Antha nodded immediately and he stepped towards her. "Now, kiss me."

She hesitated before standing and placing her hands gently on his shoulders. She pulled him down to kiss her and found that he was quite warm. For being a dungeon bat, he certainly didn't carry around his cold reputation. It was pleasant but he wasn't pleased. Merlin, she couldn't be that bad of a lover, could she?

So he taught her. Merlin, she had never felt so desired in her life, nor as powerful. It was like he was bowing down to her. And it felt bloody amazing. He guided her, told her exactly what he wanted her to do, and she obeyed. Never, ever had she fallen off the edge like that.

"Bloody hell, this is what it's like?" Antha whispered as he redressed. "All the time?"

"With someone you like, yes," Severus nodded. She smiled faintly and rested her head against her pillow, thinking.

"My Vow talks of how I have to be loyal only to him," Antha said suddenly. "Does this break it?"

"It was for him."

Antha supposed it was. Once he was dressed, she pulled her dress on and pulled her hair back, watching him carefully. "I make the change slow, so he doesn't get suspicious," she said quietly. "Thank you, Severus... I appreciate it." She swallowed tightly. "I only hope he appreciates it too."

"I hope he does as well."

They stared at each other a moment and Antha sank down on her bed, her arms tucking her legs under her chin. She stared at nothing, half expecting him to leave. He didn't.

"There is more on your mind."

She shook her head. "Not really. I do this often. Sit here and wait for either him or Salazar to call for me." She gave a half-hearted smile. "He will come soon. Even though he promised not to visit tonight, he will. He always comes to my room after a personal meeting. He either gets frustrated and wants to take it out on someone, or he gets tired and wishes a stimulating encounter." Severus grimaced at the image it painted. She rose suddenly and went to the mirror, staring at her body and then meeting her eyes. She needed to block the memories.

"You're blocking too much."

"I'm not blocking enough," Antha countered. "It has to be everything. Everything I feel, everything I care for-"

"It's too much," Severus reasoned. "Block less. You'll start to unlearn actions. Unlearn proper responses."

She shook her head. "He'll see... He can always see. This is the easiest way to make sure I'm loyal to the vow. The only way."

"No, it's not."

She nodded and satisfied the memories of the last hour were concealed well, she turned to face him. Her face was blank again and the urge to cry from earlier was completely gone. "It's an experiement. How much can I take until I can't take anymore?"

"You're ruining yourself," he reasoned.

She shook her head. "Perfecting."

He tried to penetrate her mind and she immediately felt pain. "I can't even access what you're feeling right now," he stated blandly. "You need to stop."

"I will." But she knew she wouldn't keep her promise. She watched him leave and then sat once more on the bed. He would come for her soon. He always did.


	22. Chapter 21: The Arrival of Life

She couldn't do it.

He was disappointed in her, she knew it. She sat at the edge of the bed once it was over, and bit her lip. "The bump is showing much faster than last time," she informed him.

"And?" he pressed, his anger evident as he stepped towards the mirror she had broken. A few shards of glass were still in place, cleared of the frozen image, so that it reflected back.

"They think I am only a few months along," she continued. "If I look full term in the span of two weeks..." She hesitated. "They will begin to ask questions."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"I don't know. They cannot know of the potion. It would make the world... the Wizarding World would become over populated... it will harm many witches-"

He made a noise, cutting her off. There was silence for a few moments and she didn't know if she should have continued or not. "You are to remain hidden in your room until the child is born, under the guise of a severe illness. Once the child is born, we will claim you miscarried and the elves were unable to save the child..." But the child... "You can either send the child to someone you trust or... or we will act like it is the child of a witch your father got pregnant, and I forced you to raise it... The world already thinks Salazar is your brother, and that he will be raised as my heir-"

"My father wouldn't believe it," Antha said carefully. "He doesn't leave many women to live-"

"I will take care of that," he said dismissively. "Can you keep yourself hidden for two weeks?"

"What about meals or meetings?"

"Meals will be brought to you... Salazar will be unable to sleep in your room, for fear of spreading the illness. Who should watch after him?"

"I can ask Draco," Antha said after a moment. "Salazar is fond of him, and I trust Draco to keep Salazar in line."

"Very well. I suggest this be implimented immediately, then." He turned around to face her. "A week before the child is due, we will move to Riddle Manor." She nodded. She knwe that. It had happened for Salazar as well. "I'm disappointed."

She exhaled and lowered her gaze. "I'm really trying." She swallowed. "I'm sorry."

He slammed his hands on his desk, much like the tantrum she had thrown a few weeks ago. "Prove it." He spun around, advancing towards her. "Prove to me you're trying. Prove to me you're sorry. You're not-"

She stood quickly, glaring at him. "How can I not prove it? I'm here, aren't I? I'm confiding in you. I'm doing things to my mind that I won't ever be able to get back. I'm rewriting myself so that you can have the me you want. I don't know how else to prove I'm trying than that. I'm sorry I'm not good enough, I'm sorry I'm damaged, I'm sorry I can't be who you want me to - but I'm doing my best to get there."

He grabbed her arm, pulling her close. "You're doing nothing."

"I can't do anything more!" she cried. "It's all I'm doing. Everything I do is for you. You're getting bored, I know. I can't... I don't know what else to do. What makes me interesting? I'm sorry, but I can't... I don't know what does it for you! I don't know what I need to do! I wish you would communicate with me, tell me what I need to do! I'm blind here! I don't know what's going on in your head! Tell me what to do! Let me do something, tell me!"

He released her, taking a step away. "What do you want me to tell you? Love me? You can't. You won't."

"Who says I can't?" she snapped. "Who says I won't love you?"

"You did!"

"I do love you," she insisted. "You've done so much for me, you've protected me, you've provided for me... that's what love is. When you care for each other - you do things for each other-"

"Go talk to Draco," he said simply. He turned from her and walked towards his mirror once more.

"No, don't walk away from me," Antha snapped, grabbing his arm. He spun around, his hand slapping her cheek. It stung incredibly. And immediately the fight left her. He had struck her before, but never this hard. She released him and touched her cheek, ignoring the tears in her eyes. Merlin, it had hurt. "I just want communication," she said quietly.

She turned away from him and rushed from the room, feeling far more emotional than she should have been. There was no reason she should have been upset. He didn't truly love her. He didn't truly want her to be happy with him. He just wanted her.

She found Draco in his room, and she waited outside his door a moment before knocking. She just needed to collect herself.

He didn't ask any questions, but simply nodded at her request to watch over Salazar for the next few weeks. Then, she retreated to her room, fully intent to live her two weeks in solitude.

But it was never that easy.

The Dark Lord would visit and she was expected to entertain him.

"Chess?" she questioned, confused. He nodded, gesturing for her to sit at the chess table again. "But... I thought-"

"Obviously you cannot improve in that field, so we'll try something else."

She felt the insult. Her gaze turned to the chess board. "What does chess have to do with anything?"

"Take a seat," he said firmly. "And you'll see."

She sighed but did as told. She sat. "Your move," she told him quietly.

"Sex is like a game of chess," he began, moving the pawn forward. "It is just a game, and only one will come out on top."

Antha should have known this had a purpose. "And you're so knowledgable because of the multitude of women you had willingly."

"Jealousy will get you nowhere," he said simply. Jealous? She moved to protest, but he continued. "There is the small moves that lead to the bigger ones. Your turn."She moved a pawn forward, silent. "But things are done in a reciprical fashion. If I were to move this way, you were to follow." He moved his pawn. She followed. "Do you understand?"

"Why are you telling me this?" she questioned.

"I thought you wanted to talk," he said as though he had already won the chess game. Smug. She exhaled sharply and moved a piece after him. "You understand?"

"I understand."

"So, if I were to kiss you?"

"I'd kiss you back," she said simply.

"And if I were to thrust?" He jutted a piece forward on the board.

She paused, her command to the chess piece dying on her lips. "I... I don't know."

"Think," he said firmly.

She bit her lip. She didn't have any male anatomy. So it didn't work... well, that way. She fell back into the chair, still confused. "I don't know."

"You are to meet the thrust," he informed her. "Push back towards me." Oh... Is that what made it... good? "Your turn."

She went. "I don't understand how that makes anything different."

He gave a small breath of impatience. "And that is partially my fault. However, it makes a large different when you're seeking it for yourself, as well."

She knew what it meant. It was the same thing Severus had said. She needed to look for the pleasure. The problem, before, had been she didn't know what it felt like. Now, she did.

"And when I strive for that?"

"Your instincts will guide you," he said simply. He won the match, a few moments later, but then again, she let him.

"Can..." She hesitated. "Can we try?"

He seemed very pleased with that question. "And if it doesn't work, we will try again."

She relaxed slightly, nodding. "Okay." She was led to the bed and she hesitated before he was suddenly kissing her. She tensed immediately, pulling away. "Wait-wait... Just... slowly, please?" She took a deep breath. "I just... everything before pushes on my mind and I can't..." She straightened her shoulders. A game. She could play a game. "Again."

It was different, yet still no different. She was unable to relax, to trust him fully... So when he finished, she turned over and sat on the edge of her bed, frustrated with herself. Was something wrong with her? Was she unable to love properly?

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. Antha stared at the floor, her bare toes cold against the marble. She turned to him, finding that he was pulling on his clothing. "I thought you said again-"

"Not tonight," he said finally. "Rest. Think on what I told you. In the morning I will return." The morning. Okay. She nodded and he departed, leaving her alone, yet again in her room. Her hand rested on her baby bump, feeling the child within her. She just wanted everything to be over. Walking over to her bathroom, she began to clean herself, all the while blocking every memory of sleeping with the Dark Lord. Perhaps if she blocked out those memories, she would begin tonot think about them.

They would not interrupt her trials in love making.

Merlin, she was a failure to women. What woman couldn't use their sexual ... moves?

Her. She couldn't for the life of her.

The following week, she couldn't keep any food down. She lay in bed all day, a small bucket beside her that automatically cleaned itself whenever it was necessary. The Dark Lord received word of her condition, and - as he hadn't seen her in nearly four days - was surprised at the size she had grown. She would be due within the week.

He offered her chocolate, but she only was nauseas and vomited, narrowly missing him.

"You must eat," he said firmly, holding the chocolate out to her.

"I can't. It won't stay down," she said weakly, clutching her stomach. "Can I have water?"

He nodded, offering her a glass. She drank greedily and laid down on the bed, closing her eyes and taking shallow breaths. She wanted the nausea to go away. It was all she wanted.

"Are you alright?"

"Shhh," she murmured. She took a few more breaths. "Give me the chocolate."

He placed it in her hand and she carefully lowered it to her mouth, making sure she was breathing out of her mouth. She felt terrible. Sweaty, weak, and her stomach just... it hurt as in her stomach muscles kept clenching with her vomiting.

"You are due soon," he told her, his hand resting on her forehead as she chewed. "It will be over, soon."

"Can you find some plain pasta for me?" she requested once she swallowed the chocolate. "I also want more water."

He waited on her until she was comfortable eating solid food on her own, which took a full two days and was a strange fruit she didn't know the name of, but the child inside of her liked it very much. It tasted like grass and dirt.

They arrived in Riddle Manor a few days after she began to get better, under the cover of the night. They didn't want her to be seen, as her stomach would quite obviously give them away. He situated all of her things in the tallest room of the Manor, ensuring she would be secluded and unseen by any visitors.

"The Dark Lord wishes to see you, My Lady," one of the many Riddle Manor elves bowed, appearing in a second atop Antha's desk as she wrote. She paused, her quill poised. Her will was... well, important, but the Dark Lord never specifically called her during the day anymore. Not since... well, she was sixteen.

"I'll be there soon."

"He's in his study," the elf informed her before disappearing.

His study? She feared he had an allergy to actually doing work in the day at this point. She finished the sentence, her daughter in her thoughts. She would finish it once she returned.

She walked carefully through the halls, her flats thumping against the dark wood. She could barely balance on heels at the moment, and her swollen feet didn't fit into them anyway. She wanted to go barefoot, but such a state wasn't befitting of a Dark Lady. She had been warned of it.

She entered his study after waiting outside the door for five minutes, knocking every minute. Looking around, she tried to locate her husband, but found nothing even resembling him.

"Tom?" she called. She shut the door tightly behind her, pacing further into the room and spotting a figure standing with their back turned to her, and another form hovering in front of him, laying flat. A dead body. Merlin's beard. She whipped out her wand, surging forward, brushing past the standing figure. She only knew it was a Death Eater from the black robes, but took no time to observe the face of the man.

"What happened?" she demanded. The Dark Lord's body floated in front of her. He was deathly pale... dead? No, he couldn't be. Did someone find out about George? Where was Salazar-

"A boggart," Tom's voice sounded from behind her. She turned quickly, her breath fast as Tom stood there, lively. He was staring at his own dead body. "It is said amongst those that you love that fear of the name brings a greater fear of the thing itself." She faltered back a step as the boggart behind her began to contort, shift, shape into what she feared most. "Death," Tom spoke as she turned to face it. "That is what I fear. My death."

"You face it often?" she questioned quietly.

"Until it no longer bothers me," he answered simply. "The day it changes is the day we go to battle and I will let Potter kill me." The boggart stop shifting and it formed the man behind her, standing straight and tall, with a menacing look upon his face. Much meaner than the man behind her had become.

"Oh, Antha..." the boggart sighed. She breathed quickly, her wand still tight in her grip. "How much you disappoint me." She felt Tom's surprise before he even voiced it, yet she still wondered how he couldn't have already known. She felt his grip form on her shoulders, keeping her from stepping back one more step. "I've grown bored..."

"You fear me?"

She swallowed. The hurt in his voice was quite evident. He had known she was scared of him, but never to this exent. That it would be her boggart? She didn't fear him wholly now... he had gained a lot of her trust in the last few weeks. "Not always... but sometimes."

The boggart was banished with a wave of Tom's wand, and his hand fell from her shoulder. He walked towards his desk, picking up some parchment. "I've begun writing my will."

"I have as well," she admitted. "It's almost complete."

"When the battle comes... if I am to fall, you know what to do."

She nodded firmly. "End the war."

"How?" he questioned.

"Surrender," she answered calmly. Her gaze looked him over, seeing how he was tense and moving around his desk as though he was unsure of what to say. "I announce a formal surrender and hope they take it."

"And if they don't?"

"I put the wand down and do not resist," she answered. She took a deep breath. "Why are you asking again?"

"I'm making sure you remember." She nodded and approached his desk as he sat. "How are you fairing?"

She shrugged, not knowing how to answer. "I get some bouts of morning sickness, but otherwise I feel tired and overweight." She sat down across from him, her feet thankful she was no longer standing. "How is Salazar?"

"Draco has taught him how to fly at Quidditch speed, and I confiscated Salazar's broom once he began flying in the manor. We read the Bible together while you are sleeping." Tom paused, folding the parchment on his desk. "He asks about you."

"What do you tell him?"

"That you are sick, but will be getting better soon." Oh, that was very kind of him.

"Why did you summon me?"

"I have found one of your father's victims that is alive... she died a few days ago. We can pass the child off as hers," Tom spoke.

"Her name?"

"Valerie Castres," Tom answered. He picked up his quill but seemed to think beter of it and put it once more in the ink well. He rose, striding to the mantle where a tumblr full of firewhiskey sat. He poured himself a glass without hesitation. "She was under your father's hand for two weeks before she escaped, hiding with her mother in Spain. She died from her injuries a week later in St. Mungo's... her mother's memory has been modified so that she believes her daughter had a child and was under your father's care for ten months. It is all we need."

"Will she try to take the child."

Tom smirked. "She won't care for a bastard child." Antha grimaced. "Her words, not mine."

"Then, we're solid."

"Yes," Tom grinned. He raised his glass to his lips, and Antha waited for him to sip, but the glass slipped from his hand, crashing to the ground and splintering into a thousand pieces. She jumped back in surprise, pulling herself to her feet.

"Tom!"

A sharp jolt went through her stomach at her sudden movements, and Tom seemed to be shaky, gripping the mantlepiece.

"What's wrong?" she questioned, paranoia causing her to glance around her frightfully. Was someone here? Were they in danger?

"Potter... he's destroyed another..." He moved towards a couch in front of the fire and sank down into the cushions heavily. He looked pale, older than he had looked in years, and much... much unhealthier. Almost sick. "The cup... Bella's vault." He cursed and took many breaths to not only control his temper, but his heart rate. "How did he get in...?" His gaze turned to her, a glare that made her instantly afraid. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," she promised. "I swear to you."

"How did they get into the Lestrange vault?"

"I have no access until my father dies," she rushed out as he gripped the Elder Wand. "Whoever let them in wasn't a Lestrange... I don't even know where Potter is."

Another sharp pain twisted at her intestines and then her legs felt slick and warm. Oh, Merlin, why now? Her legs faltered and she sat in the chair, much like he had to the couch moments before. "Philly?"

The nickname was new. She barely reacted to it, instead focusing on breathing herself. "I'm fine," she insisted. Labor. Of course she was going into labor. The idiotic child just couldn't wait. "If there's nothing more, I should probably retire for the evening." She winced at a contraction. "I'm feeling a bit faint-"

"What's wrong?"

Was it that obvious that something was wrong? She summoned an elf, using that as a means of answering instead. "What can Gobbs do for Mistress?"

"Take me to my room and prepare the necessary potions and ingredients. Bring a healer elf..." She winced again. "I'm going into labor."

The elf squeaked, doing as commanded, and Antha was gone from the angry Dark Lord. It was greuling. Her palms were sweaty and she couldn't feel much of her body, other than the radiating pain of trying to push a full sized infant out of a hole the size of a Muggle pound coin.

Tom appeared almost immediately after the elf had apparated her away and though he was angry, she let him take her hand. "How much longer?" she panted, relaxing for a moment. An elf gave her some water and another dabbed a cool, damp cloth on her forehead.

"Just a few more, Mistress," the elf answered.

Antha found the vague answer amusing. "The horcrux... you're certain that ... that it was the cup?"

"Now isn't the time-"

"Distract me, please," she interrupted fiercely. So he told her of the horcruxes... of all that had been destroyed, of all that remained. "Just Nagini and the diadem?"

"Yes," Tom said quietly. "The less horcruxes there are, the more the destruction hurts..." He seemed to realize what he admitted and backpedaled. "More caught off guard I am. The cup was destroyed with fiedfyre... in a small village. Wizarding, I believe."

She exhaled and then inhaled loudly. It wasn't distracting her much. She cried out as she gave a particularly hard push and despite the stinging of her muscles, she felt relieved. "A girl, Mistress!" the elf by her feet proclaimed. She relaxed, her hand no longer clenching onto the Dark Lord's.

"Avazkadellia Iliza Riddle," Antha said quietly. And then there was crying. Her child... her child was healthy. She was given the little girl to hold and she did so, memorizing the whisps of brown hair and the large round eyes that were clenched tightly together as she screamed.

Tom approved of the name, and stared at the child for only a few moments more. "I have work to do."

She knew that. It had been something she had taken him away from. "Make the announcement of my miscarriage, yes?" Tom nodded, glancing once more at the child. "And how Iliza was delivered to us."

He nodded and she felt along the jaw line of Ava. The child's skin was so soft.

Antha remained in bed all day, and the next morning, she felt much better, carrying a sleeping Ava with her to the Dark Lord's study. "Mummy!" she was greeted with once she entered. Salazar was sitting in front of the fireplace, a piece of parchment at his feet as he practiced his letters.

But no Dark Magic. It was something she was worried that without her supervision these last few weeks, he'd be instructed in. She shushed her son so as to keep Ava quiet. "I thought we'd join you," Antha said quietly, glancing at the Dark Lord. "My room gets rather boring after a while."

"Please." She smiled in thanks and sat in a chair, cradling Ava to her chest. Salazar abandoned his letters and squeezed himself beside her. Antha rested into the chair, her eyes closed, and listened to the scratching of the Dark Lord's quill.

"What's her name?" Salazar whispered.

"This is Avazkadellia Riddle, Zar. She's your sister."

"Ava... Avazke...?"

"Avazkadellia... Ava, if you'd rather," Antha murmured to her son. She glanced to the Dark Lord, her eyes opening to a sound of something toppling over. Ink. She smiled at his frustrated grimace, and he noticed. She glanced away, giggling and ruffling Salazar's hair.

"If you find it so amusing you may leave," Tom snapped.

She flinched as Ava jumped, and began to scream. She glared at Tom, rising, and taking Salazar's hand with her free one. "Fine. I was just trying to spend time with you."

She slammed the study door shut and left the Dark Lord alone... The war was closing in on him, and she knew he was stressed... It didn't mean that he had to take it out on her."Let's go find a radio," she told her son, quieting the child in her arms. "I'm sure there's a Quidditch match on somewhere."


	23. Chapter 22: Final Contact

She could feel something. She shifted and he hit this spot that made her feel fuzzy and strange... but it was a good strange. Merlin, she had never felt this before. With Severus... something resembling it, but this was stronger. This was... it was so good.

Her arms wrapped around Tom's neck, pulling his body closer to her. Though her eyes were shut, it wasn't for the same reason as three weeks ago. She could feel something, and she didn't want it to go away.

"Philly?" he murmured, his mouth caressing a point on her neck.

She didn't know why he called her that... But she was okay with it. No one had called her Philly before. It was something uniquely his. How long would they have to explore this new territory? The battle was approaching. She could feel it in the air. And now that she was beginning to loosen up around him, she almost didn't want it to end.

She had done what she thought was impossible. She had fallen in love with him.

"A little... a little faster," she requested. Her eyes flew open and a gasp left her lips as he did as requested, hitting some sweet spot within her. It was quickly followed by a moan and she pressed her body flush against his, hoping he'd hit it again. He didn't disappoint. "Don't stop... please-" She could feel every inch of him and it was like her body was humming. She had done the right thing. Focusing on feeling the sensations instead of who it was. She didn't want to think about it as anything other than the sensations. It was just sex.

"Come," he murmured in her ear. She wanted to. She wanted to so badly. "Now." She undid and her bottom lip was clenched tightly between her teeth as she moaned at the feeling - like stars were exploding all over her body. He followed her and then he was off of her, rolling onto the other side of the bed.

"That was amazing," she admitted quietly.

"Good." He was breathing heavily, much like usual, but his cheeks were a bit flushed. "Your instincts guided you."

She nodded, but found when she moved to get under the covers, her legs felt like jelly. She didn't know if she had the strength. "I love you," she said quietly. Yet, even as she said it, even as she had come over the edge, the image of a red-haired boy was on her mind. She knew if she had to choose who she would pick... but she had no choice now. Tom was all she was ever going to have.

"No, you don't."

She didn't try to fight it, instead closing her eyes and trying to gain her strength.

The bed shifted, and she peaked open an eye to see Tom gripping his wand, his face determined, yet he wavered. What was he doing? Did he perform magic on her while she slept? They had only begun sharing a room following Ava's birth seven days ago. "Tom?" she murmured, closing her eyes as she received a wave of fatigue. Perhaps he cast spells to make her sleep soundly?

She heard the clattering of his wand on the nightstand and then a blanket was draped over her. Sleep came nearly instantly.

"Wake up," an urgent voice snapped, shaking her shoulder. She gasped, jerking upright and clutching the blanket to her.

"What?" She glanced at Tom, who was moving to the wardrobe and pulling some clothing out for her. He didn't seem to think many options were good until he found a few articles of white fabric. He tossed them at her and she caught them, sliding them on. "What's wrong?"

"Potter's been spotted in Hogsmeade. He's broken into the castle, trying to find the diadem. Death Eaters are gathering at the ward line." She grabbed her wand, fixing her hair and then she slid on some white heels. "This is the battle."

"The end, you mean?" she questioned. He nodded.

"Nagini will come with, and she will sacrifice herself... it is how it must be. Get the children. Meet me here in five minutes."

She ran from the room as he continued to get ready, removing the charms around his face so he once more looked like Voldemort and not Tom Riddle. Her children were still asleep and she woke them, well, Salazar, and ordered him to get dressed in a white button up shirt and black pants. He needed to look innocent, but clean. She was careful not to wake Ava as she dressed the small girl into a white lace dress and wrapped her in a white wool blanket. There was a frost on the windows this morning, and it would no doubt be cold.

"Where are we going?"

"Hogwarts," Antha told Salazar. She instructed him to hold onto her and she walked briskly down the hall towards her bedroom. Tom met her at the door. Salazar whimpered at the face but didn't comment. He was still petrified of his father, but Antha had urged him to just ignore his father was there most of the time... the boy took the advice well.

"You are certain you remember what to do?" Tom demanded, grabbing her arm roughly and causing her to halt as they hurried down the hallway. Salazar was holding onto her white skirt, fisting the fabric as though she'd leave him behind. Her heart was beating furiously fast. This was it. The last time she'd ever be in these halls, if everything went to plan.

"Positive," she answered firmly. "We've discussed the plan for weeks-"

"Very well. We must apparate to join our forces." Their forces. They were all his. But not for long.

The cliff overlooking Black Lake, one she would go to frequently in her Hogwarts years and jump from - despite the many admonishings from Professor McGonagall, was teeming with Death Eaters. There were people far and wide, laughing, growling, buzzing with anticipation for a fight.

She kept a firm hand on Salazar, and another clutched Ava close to her chest, her eyes scanning the Death Eaters she walked passed until she reached the tip of the rock, her husband standing beside her. The school was calm, silent, quiet. And no presence could have been seen, if not for the white fortification slowly building a bubble around the school. They knew they were coming. How? How could they possibly have known Death Eaters would be arriving? Severus had only just informed Tom of the infiltration by the Order through a secret room that rarely any knew of but Tom and herself. Her from the DA, Tom from his own years scouring the castle.

They could have very well decided to wait it out.

Tom closed his eyes, his wand to his throat. "I know that many of you will want to fight. Some of you might even think to fight is wise... but this is folly." Salazar whimpered, gripping Antha's skirt even tighter. "Give me Harry Potter. Do this and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded... You have one hour."

They had an hour to evacuate the children, an hour to prepare themselves. Nearly twenty minutes later, reports of people appearing in Hogsmeade, heading towards the train station, reached the group.

"Leave them," the Dark Lord instructed. "They are taking my advice and leaving the premises..." His gaze was on the school, being fortified. "I will stay true to my word, Rabastian. An hour. If Mr. Potter is not presented to me, then we will just have to get him ourselves, won't we?" The Death Eaters laughed. They knew that if they had to get Harry, blood would be spilled in the school. It was a path Antha didn't want to think about. She couldn't kill the friends she had grown up with - from any house.

But no, Hogwarts was much too important. The students were key to Tom's success, and the Order knew that. They should have planned for the Room of Requirement. They were fools not to.

Antha informed him the hour was up when she cast a tempus charm and there was still no sign of Harry. He had to destroy the diadem... she doubted he would give himself up before that.

"They never learn," Tom smirked. "Such a pity."

Antha swallowed, listening to another speak up. "My Lord, shouldn't we wait?"

"Begin!" Death Eaters were only too eager to begin to take back the school. They sprung forth any spell they could conjure, badgering it into the walls. She hated watching the school she loved so much succumb to the forces, to be defiled by Dark Magic. But she took slow breaths, building more barriers as the moments passed.

"It is wise to keep building?" he murmured to her.

"It would be foolish to stop," she answered back.

"When the connection is made between Potter and myself, I will leave the image of Nagini firmly planted into his head," Tom informed her quietly as Death Eaters shouted spells around them. "Remember the command." She nodded. "He is close. I can feel him touching the diadem." She wanted to ask how he knew Potter was close, but didn't get a chance to voice it. He suddenly stumbled and the Death Eaters stopped, gasping at their lord faltering.

"Tom-" she murmured, reaching for him. He shook himself away from her and grabbed his wand, casting a strong, firm charm towards the barriers, using all of his anger to break them. And then the barriers came tumbling down.

"Go!" Tom shouted to his followers.

And then the small family was left alone, standing on the rock face and staring at the Hogwarts that was falling around them. "He destroyed it?" she whispered, her free hand cupping his face as he concentrated on the image of Nagini. A short nod followed. "You are brave," she told him quietly. "I never would have made it as far as you have... walking into this, knowing that you will die..."

"I am not a lion."

"No," she agreed, kissing his cheek. "You are the man that I love, and the man that loves me enough to give his own life..."

"You knew that surrendering to me meant your death, as well."

She smiled faintly as his eyes opened, the connection closed. "I knew. And I was okay with that. If I died, those I cared for would still be safe... and if I lived with you, I knew I wouldn't be living in a cold world, but instead amongst those I love and those that love me. With you."

"You have either become very adept at the word of deception, or speak true." She smiled coyly, making him chuckle. "Go to the spot we designated in the woods. I must leave you, for there is business I must attend to... concerning a Potions Master." Severus. She simply nodded, not bothering to reply. She prayed Severus would heed her advice and refuse the summons. The man was... he was much more to her than just a professor. He was her beloved friend. But she couldn't bargain anymore.

"Return to me," Antha requested.

"Always," Tom nodded once. Once he apparated, Antha took Salazar's hand and noticed Nagini had gone with Tom. She apparated them to a clearing in the Forbidden Forest, filled fallen trees that were the perfect height to sit upon. So she sat calmly, Ava on her lap, Salazar at her feet, playing with a stick in the dirt, keeping himself occupied. A small dragonfly suddenly appeared, landing atop Ava's forehead, flapping its red wings a few times before resting.

She stared at it a moment before waving her hand to flick it away. It fluttered around, buzzing, before stopping once more atop Ava's head.

She exhaled slightly, but didn't bother. It wasn't hurting Ava. Her eyes scanned the trees, searching, waiting.

Her husband would return soon.

"Severus will not die if he is found soon," Tom spoke up. She jumped, glancing behind her to see her husband approaching, alone.

"What do you mean?"

"Gobbs will discover him in two minutes, and heal his wounds so that they are no longer life threatening." She felt a wave of relief crash into her. He had saved yet another person. "You are fond of him."

"Thank you," she said quietly. He sat beside her, and his wand once more went to his throat. Another speech?

"You have fought valiantly, but in vain... I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity." It was a very honorable request. If anything, he did not fight without honor. "Harry Potter, I now speak directly to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you, rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the Forbidden Forest, and confront your fate. If you do not do this, I shall kill every last man, woman and child who tries to conceal you from me..." He pulled the wand away and glanced towards his sleeping children, Salazar's head resting against his mother's leg, and Ava tucked warmly in the blankets. "Who is this?" he murmured, gesturing to the dragonfly.

"I don't know, but it seems to like Ava," she admitted. She shooed it away, but it remained once more. "I've come to ignore it."

"They will arrive soon..." He took her free hand, his fingers enveloping hers. "Promise me you'll follow the plan?"

"For your legacy to live on," she whispered. For their family to survive. For the children to live... She shuddered to think what the Ministry would do if they were to capture them all without any overseers. Aurors might kill them on sight - children or not. They wouldn't take any chances.

He rose when the cracks of Death Eaters arriving echoed in the forest air. "Come, my friends. Take a seat and let us wait for Potter to arrive."

They waited. They waited so long that the dragonfly grew bored and flew away into the early hours of the morning. They waited so long that animals began to venture closer from inside of the woods, to figure out who was around them - who had taken their homes.

"I was so sure he'd come," Tom murmured finally, staring into the silent forest.

"Perhaps he has learned not to put his neck on the line any longer," Antha said with a smirk on her lips. Her gaze scanned the trees, standing beside her husband, listening to him try to hide his frustration. He was so sure Potter would arrive.

Her eyes caught the movement before his. "Tom-"

Harry Potter stepped over a few tree trunks, looking worse for wear, but intact. All of the Death Eaters held their breath, waiting as Tom assessed him. "Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived..." This was it. Whoever survived the encounter would survive the war. "Come to die." Harry was breathing heavily, as if resigned to his fate, but still afraid. "Avada Kedavra!"

The raven haired boy flew backwards and Tom collapsed onto the log behind him, struggling to stand. He almost looked as though... Harry was a horcrux? "My Lord," she said gently, reaching to help him.

"I don't need your help," he said harshly. She swallowed.

She almost felt like taking a wand to herself when Harry didn't stir like Tom was, rising to his feet as he stared at Harry. Harry wasn't moving. Harry was... no. No, Harry couldn't have been. He was her ticket... he was her ticket to freedom. He would bring her the life that was stolen from her.

But now... now he was dead. She was to be eternally wed to the man that had survived the rebound of the curse.

"Is he dead?" Antha asked, staring at the boy so far away from her.

"Check him," Tom ordered. Antha nodded and passed Ava to Salazar, before she climbed over twigs and logs to reach Harry. The leaves felt smooth against her bare skin as she knelt before him, her hands shaking as she touched his neck, feeling for a pulse.

Her eyes watered and her heart nearly burst from an emotion she couldn't recognize. The faint thump of his heart was beating. He was... Merlin, he was alive.

"Draco... is he alive?" Draco was vital. Draco possessed the wand, and if he was dead... No, Draco didn't possess it... Harry did. And bloody hell, Harry was here. But Draco was her only ally. Draco was the only one she could trust.

"Yes," he breathed, his body barely moving at the admission.

"Forgive me," Antha murmured. "Win this war, Harry... please." She rose, turning fluidly to face the Dark Lord. Tom met her eyes, and she struggled to say the words. Lying would be betraying him, and in doing so, break her Vow. "Dead." Almost immediately, the Vow protested and she closed her eyes, fighting the urge to cry out at the pain in her blood.

It was like her body was boiling.

"Grab him. We'll approach the castle. The hour is up."

Hagrid was forced to pick up the boy, carrying him to the castle, and Antha approached the Dark Lord, her pain mounting.

"The truth, now?" he requested quietly.

"Alive," Antha rushed out in a breath. The pain immediately subsided and she breathed a sigh of relief, staring at the Dark Lord. "Forgive me. The lie was nec-"

"I'm well aware," he stated blandly. "Come. We mustn't be late."

She picked up Ava once more, and held Salazar's hand tightly, before following her husband to face the Order for one last time.

They stood side by side, the children in between them. Antha took a deep breath before glancing to him, the Order members across from them, watching, waiting. He turned his head towards her only briefly before he began to speak.

"How pleasant, everyone's all here," Tom grinned, stepping forward. "Well, almost everyone." Antha's eyes scanned the Order crowd, searching for people that were missing. Many. There was no Percy standing amongst his family, nor were there others - the Lupins, some friends like one of the Patil twins-

Her eyes met Fred's from across the courtyard and she noticed him watching her, waiting for something. She tilted her head slightly, like she was listening, but he seemed to understand what she was trying to convey and nodded. George was still okay. He seemed okay with her as well. Perhaps George had made him think differently of her?

"I do value punctuality," Voldemort was saying casually. "The fact that you all met us at the door... well, it pleases me considerably, does it not, Philantha?"

"Pleases you quite so, Tom," Antha said with a smile, her eyes turning to her husband. As soon as he looked away, Antha's face turned into a mask, watching the crowd like a hawk.

"But, what pleases me even more is the fact that your precious Harry Potter is dead!"

"No!" Ginny cried, rushing forward. Arthur was quick, grabbing his daughter and forcing her to be quiet as Voldemort stared at her angrilly. Antha knew the girl cared for Potter a lot. She also knew Potter loved her. At least, had before he had disappeared to hunt for bits of Tom's soul.

Feelings could change.

"Foolish girl," Tom spat. "Harry Potter is dead. From now on, you put your faith in me." The sounds of Ginny's cries reminded Antha of something she had long forgotten. Of a young girl, who couldn't have been older than fourteen, sobbing late into the night. Antha, having stayed with the Weasley brood, would console Ginny, offering her words of kindness... words that had cheered the girl up and made her forget about the boy that had broken her heart - the boy that hadn't noticed her because he wasn't interested in girls yet. The boy, no, man, that was believed to be dead just feet from them.

Antha furrowed her brows, trying to block the memory of Ginny, knowing that it was... well, it was resurfacing. It had broken the binds of the magic in her head.

"Harry Potter is dead!" Tom laughed, the sound almost haunting. The Death Eaters laughed behind them, cackling. Antha smoothed her expression as she realized she was showing confusion, and a smile touched her blood red lips. It was a smile which made several people flinch. "And now is the time to declare yourself," he began. "Come forward and join us... or die."

Would any of them defect? She didn't think so. "Draco..." Lucius sounded weak, defeated, and he was beckoning to his son, standing proudly beside the Weasleys. Merlin, this was it, then. He was declaring his side. "Come here, Draco," Lucius said more firmly, his voice echoing in the courtyard.

The Dark Lord seemed to notice the disloyalty and curled his lip, in anger. More deserters existed under his roof than he previously believed. Antha's eyes were diverted by more movement, and she choked back a pained sob at who was limping forward. His jeans were soaked through with blood on one thigh, and he was obviously in pain.

Never had she ever doubted Neville's loyalty to the Order. He was firmly loyal. His parents had been nearly murdered because of her own... it had put a strain on their relationship in school... they avoided each other like the plague. But... but for him to want to join?

"Well," Tom laughed. "I must say, I hoped for better." There was a chorus of laughs behind Antha, but her ears were pumping blood deafeningly loudly. "And who might you be, young man?" Didn't he know? How could he not have known?

"Neville Longbottom," Neville said strongly, but he didn't make eye contact. Maybe he was smart. He would survive longer that way.

A Longbottom. A Longbottom that had his whole life stripped to him by a Lestrange, by the very wife of the man he was going to join.

"Well, Neville," Tom said, a grin as he gestured as dramatically as he always did. "I'm sure we could find a place for you in our ranks."

"I'd like to say something," Neville spoke instead. It peaked her curiosity. Say something? What more could he say? Tom clenched his fist and she could practically feel the unguarded anger.

"Well, Neville, I'm sure we'd all be fascinated with what you have to say." Oh, yes, very, very angry.

"It doesn't matter that Harry's gone!" Neville began. She was almost relieved. He was loyal. Loyal to the Order, and he was stepping up to the plate, the spot that had almost been given to him the night of Halloween in 1981. "People die every day. Friends. Family. Yeah, we lost Harry tonight. He's still with us, in here. So's George. Remus. Tonks. All of them." Remus and Tonks? They couldn't have been... Merlin's beard. They didn't die in vain. But you will! Because you're wrong!" Tom began to laugh. He knew the words Neville spoke weren't true. He was going to die for something much nobler. Antha knew it was why he was laughing. "Harry's heart did beat for us! For all of us! It's not over!"

And then he did something no one had been expecting. Out of a crumpled piece of fabric, which Antha recognized as the Sorting Hat, he pulled out a very expensive sword. Gryffindor's sword.

"She-hath-i," Antha murmured, and the snake coiled at her feet sprung for Neville, aiming for the sword. Neville sliced and in mid-air, the creature that trusted Antha enough to sleep in her bed, was beheaded. Black smoke poured from the wound, and a piercing scream filled the air - an unhuman sound. It had been Nagini, the soul in her dying and Tom stumbled slightly, but otherwise kept his composure.

Gasps echoed in the crowd, from both sides, as Harry spun out of the half-giants arms, landing on the ground with his wand in his hand. Didn't anyone think to take it?

"Confringo!" Harry called, aiming for Tom, but Tom deflected it and began to cast spells at him, causing him to take the long way around to the center of the Order crowd.

People roared in fury behind her and she noticed the sounds of many apparating away, too cowardly to fight the Boy Who Lived Twice. Tom's lip curled, and he clenched his other hand in anger. He did the gesture often when he didn't know what to say.

"Well, this is unexpected," Harry spoke. Antha knelt down, drawing little attention to herself as Tom retorted.

"When sparks fly out of both of their wands, and the spells connect," Antha spoke to Salazar urgently, "you are to run to Mrs. Weasley, alright?" Salazar nodded immediately. "Now, repeat after me. When you see her, say this: Falcon and Dove wave white."

"Falcon and Dove wave white," Salazar said carefully.

"Again. Keep saying it so you won't forget." She pressed Ava into Salazar's arms and the boy kept murmuring the phrase over and over again. Tom had stepped forward, angry as the two stared at each other, waiting for the final move. Antha let her wand fall into her hand and she gripped it tightly, waiting. Her wandless hand held Salazar's shoulder firmly. She'd push him when it was time to go.

All of the sudden the silence of the Courtyard was catapulted into war as Tom cried, "Avada Kedavra!" and Harry screamed, "Expelliarmus!"

She gave Salazar a gentle shove and he was gone. Her eyes watched him as he darted through the crowd, no one paying attention to the small child clutching another desperately close. He found Molly as a large boom echoed in the courtyard, and Tom fell to the ground, dead. He was finished, no longer able to return. As soon as Molly took Salazar's hand, she relaxed. Anything could happen now, as long as Salazar and Ava were in Order custody.

She stepped forward, and the outraged Death Eaters behind her fell silent. She kept walking until she was level with Tom's body, but not once did she glance at it. Instead, she looked at Harry, who was breathing heavily.

"For our Lord's legacy to live on," she spoke clearly, knowing that anyone could hear her if they were in the courtyard, "The Death Eaters and myself surrender."

"We never surrender!" Rabastian shouted.

Antha whipped around quickly, her wand pointed at Rabastian. "That is an order." The man, terrified of whatever it was he thought she'd do to him, nodded immediately and backed down. His wand fell to his pocket.

Antha faced Harry once more and tossed her wand on the ground. "We surrender."

Harry hesitated a moment, wondering if it was a trick, before he nodded. He had accepted their surrender. The war was over. Antha felt her legs fall out from under her and suddenly she was kneeling next to the Dark Lord. She hadn't remembered doing it. She didn't think that she even thought about doing it, either. She reached a hand out and felt his skin.

Cooling. Hardening. Rigimortus was setting in. He was truly dead. She didn't quite understand why she felt so relieved. It was an emotion she hadn't felt in what seemed like years. Relief. Gratefulness. He had died so that she would have a better life. She knew that. He could have fought harder, could have made more horcruxes... He didn't.

Just as her hands were about to run through his hair, two pairs of arms grabbed her, lifting her up. She didn't struggle. She didn't even attempt to fight. Three Order members... possibly Aurors... surrounded the Dark Lord, blocking her view of him. She was free from him. Free of his regime. But not free from him in her mind. She felt like he was there, telling her what to do. She heard him tell her not to resist, that resisting would just make it worse.

It was like their nights together.

"Philantha Lucinda Riddle?" the person on her right questioned.

"That's me," Antha's lips formed. She was shoved down onto a cot and suddenly Harry was before her, her wand in his hands. She glanced up at him, still feeling numb, confused. "What is it you wish to tell me? Am I getting the kiss?"

"No." She nodded carefully and glanced down at her lap. The kiss was a horrible way to go. But she doubted she'd feel much different from now if she got the kiss. "Fred told me to bring you to him for a few minutes."

Antha nodded and rose. He placed metal cuffs on her hands and she felt them tightening as she dropped her hands in front of her. They were uncomfortable, but it was something. He pushed her along the aisles until they reached the Weasleys. Her son... her beautiful son was sitting there, listening to whatever Molly was telling him, and her daughter... the sleeping child was still nestled tightly in Salazar's arms. He didn't want to let her go.

Fred was there, looking so much like his brother... She hadn't seen a single Weasley twin before today in... not since she dropped George off. He looked so much like George. There was an urge to cry, one she recognized but didn't know where it came from. He approached her suddenly and hugged her tightly.

When he pressed his cheek against her own, she knew who it was. Not Fred. It explained why he was so friendly towards her, and not hostile.

"George," she whispered.

"Fred's here too. Time to come out of the closet, huh?"

She felt the tears spill over and she couldn't stop them. She began to cry. "You listened to me, even after everything."

"I wasn't going to throw my life away for something you sacrificed," George said quietly. "By the way, ruddy awful wedding dress."

She sobbed, a laugh escaping her and she wished she could hug him back. Suddenly the handcuffs were gone and her arms went tightly around his neck, burying her face into his chest. Bloody Merlin, four weeks... She had never been separated from him for so long before.

She didn't know what she felt for him, but she knew that one day she had loved him so much she had almost sacrificed her life for him. She could barely recall that memory. But she knew that she had loved him, then. Just as she felt like, if she could feel it at all, she would still love him.

"Hey, it's okay," George insisted. "It's okay."

"It's over," Antha whispered. "The war's over. It's all over."

"He'll never hurt you again," George promised her. And she believed it to be true. But she knew that Tom wouldn't have truly hurt her. Not to the point of life-threatening pain. He loved her, even if he didn't know how to properly express it. It was enough for Antha.


	24. Chapter 23: Skeletons in the Closet

She was wrenched away from the man she had fought so hard to protect, and her cuffs were on immediately. "Don't you touch my son," Molly hissed. Her wand was pointed at Philantha and Antha took quiet breaths to control her breathing, to fight the instinct of fighting the woman. She didn't want to fight.

"Mum, she's-"

"A traitor," Molly snapped. "Don't even try to defend her, Fred. How many nights did you demand her dead? How many days did you mourn for the brother she delivered? She should be the one dead-"

"Mum... It's me, George," the boy that looked like Fred with glamours said quietly. He touched his mother's wand arm quietly. "I promise I'm George. Fred's around here somewhere, posing as some Muggle kid."

"Right here!" an unmistakeable voice cried. And suddenly Fred was standing beside his brother, throwing his arm around him and grinning at his mother. "How's that for vanishing acts, hmm?"

Molly paled considerably and stared at George, as though he didn't exist and was instead a ghost. Her wand faltered and she touched George's face, rubbing her palm against his ear and feeling that it was missing. "George?"

"Hey, mum. Guess I really am saint-like, huh?"

Molly hugged her son so tightly, Antha doubted he could breathe. "George Weasley's alive?" murmurs spread, and soon the whole Hall was buzzing, straining to get a better look at the miracle twin. The mother sobbed quite openly over her son, and Antha wondered if she had always cared for the twins that much. She never seemed to show it before George's death, but a mother is a mother and a mother loves her child unconditionally. Antha's eyes went to her son and she knew that she would be reacting the same way if it was Salazar.

Her cheek stung suddenly and Molly's palm was the reason why. There were gasps as Antha rubbed her cheek, surprised it didn't hurt as badly as she thought it would have. Aurors rushed to Molly's side, wands out, waiting for the time they'd have to fend Antha off. But Antha didn't do anything. She wouldn't have anyway, added to the fact that she didn't have a wand.

"I hope you'll understand why I did this," Antha told Molly quietly. "One day, at least."

She turned away from them and glanced at Harry, not wanting to comment on how his wand was out, too. She knew they didn't trust her, but to think she was hostile? She wasn't... at least, she didn't think she was.

"I'd like to go back to the holding area for Azkaban," Antha requested. "I believe what needed to be seen here is done now." Harry glanced behind her, almost shocked, but she doubted he even knew George died, what with him on the run constantly.

Finally, he nodded and she felt his hand grab her upper arm roughly. It was nothing new, but it caught her off balance as she was jerked forward. Antha nearly twisted her ankle on the heels she had on, but she straightened and walked with some dignity back towards the cot she had been given when she was first placed in the Great Hall.

Molly caught her eyes, talking to Salazar across the room with a patient look on her face. Her eyes were the same color as her hair, from crying. Merlin... who had died? She didn't want to know. She didn't think she could handle knowing. She feared what her reaction would be. Emphathy? Apathy? With all of the blocks, Severus had warned her of unlearning proper responses.

Severus... was he found? Was he safe? She didn't want to inquire. He was a traitor to them, a murderer of their leader... would he be given a trial? Or straight to Azkaban?

Salazar nodded, smiling brightly as he gestured towards where Antha sat, but it soon turned into a frown when Molly shook her head. She waited for her son to sit down on a cot, before she relaxed on hers. Ava was still clutched in his arms, and Molly sat beside him, asking more questions. Hermione approached, and Salazar, though he didn't know her, seemed rather happy to speak with her. The interrogations concerning her son continued well into the morning.

Antha didn't realize she had dozed off, her three days of hardly any sleep, not only caring for Ava, but all of her other duties and planning that had been presented to her, led her to being exhausted. The sky was shining brilliantly with the sun's rays when she was jolted awake by a familiar cry coming from across the near silent Great Hall. A cry of her daughter.

Whoever was sitting beside her, having a hushed conversation with an Auror, seemed to jump by her sudden jolt. Ava was crying. Looking across the area, she could see Salazar looking around frantically for Antha, but unable to see her. And Molly was rushing to his side, trying to coddle the baby.

Trying to rise, she was shoved down roughly by the Auror, and her hands wringed themselves harshly against the cuffs. The magic in them caused her wrists to turn an angry red, as though she had been tied tightly with ropes. "Stay down, girl," the auror growled. Antha glanced at them, opening her mouth to insist that it was to look at what was going on with her children, but the Auror's wand was out... and the face she was greeted with wasn't friendly.

She submitted, which she felt was the only thing she was good at. Submitting. But she didn't want anything to go against her children... she didn't want her actions to hurt them. It was something she supposed she should have considered before she had murdered dozens.

Molly picked up the child, patting her on the back as though she had the need to burp. Antha knew it wasn't that. The girl hadn't eaten anything since... well, since she had been put to bed the evening before. Ava was hungry.

She watched like a hawk as Molly seemed to get frustrated when the girl wouldn't stop. Salazar said something to Molly, quietly. He knew the woman, had visited her a few times and knew that she was friends with Antha. Perhaps that would make him more outgoing. It certainly seemed the case. If he was comfortable with Molly, he'd explain why Ava was crying.

"Not now," she heard Molly's voice snap and she tensed, her eyes flashing dangerously as her son stopped mid sentence. Merlin, it wasn't like she needed to shout at her son. Antha saw Salazar step away and put his head down. Merlin, of course he'd be upset.

Her fists clenched as Molly walked away from Salazar, her hand clapping the back of her daughter. It wasn't abusive, Antha knew that, but she also knew that Molly was letting her emotional state - with George's return - cloud her judgement when it came to caring for her daughter.

"Can you make her bloody stop crying?" Harry muttered, rubbing his eyes as Antha glanced at him. He had been laying down in a cot near her, sleeping, it seemed. He seemed just as annoyed as others in the Hall did by the little girl's sudden burst of wails.

"She's hungry," Antha answered, her eyes going back to Molly, and Ava.

"Bloody hell, well, she's making me frustrated." Harry flicked his wand and waved his hand. "Go, please. Make it stop."

Antha glanced at the Auror, that looked ready to intervene, but he seemed to think better than second guessing the boy that had vanquished the Dark Lord. "We'll be watching you closely."

Antha nodded and rose, straightening her dress, before walking swiftly towards the crying babe and the matriarch.

Molly turned abruptly, hearing the heels approaching, and eyed Antha warily, as if waiting for her to attack. "She's hungry," Antha said carefully. She was aware every eye was on her, as she stood in Order territory. Wands were clutched tightly and muscles tense. Antha hesitated before holding her arms out to the crying child.

It was Molly's turn to hesitate. "Who released you?"

"Harry," Antha said over her daughter's cries. "Please, she's hungry."

Molly sighed and passed the child over. Antha's arms seemed to be a comfort, because the girl whimpered, her cries seizing all together. Soon, Salazar ran up to his mother's leg, biting his lip in worry. "Is she okay? I tried to tell her she was hungry," Salazar insisted. "I'm sorry-"

"You've done nothing wrong," Antha insisted to Salazar. "And she'll be fine." Salazar frowned, but believed his mother. She glanced towards the cot that he had been occupying before she fell asleep. "Why don't you go back to your bed and wait for them to decide you can leave the castle?"

Salazar nodded and did so at once. Antha exhaled and rocked Ava slightly, knowing it soothed the girl. Suddenly, there was a presence beside her, as though protecting her from the glaring red-headed woman. "What do you intend to do?" Molly questioned.

"I'd like to feed her," Antha remarked, almost cynically. She cleared her throat to get rid of the tone. She had no need to be cruel. "If I can do so privately-"

"There's the trophey room," George's voice piped up. "I'm sure that there would be someone she feels comfortable going down there with her-"

"Narcissa," Molly said plainly. "As well as Hermione and Angelina, I should think will be sufficient." It was more than Antha desired. She wasn't going to resist. But she nodded anyway, clearing her throat, and stepping away from George as he reached out to her. She had to distance herself from him. He... he was too good for her now.

"Come along," a very familiar voice intoned. Merlin, she hadn't seen the woman for weeks... Had only last seen her when she orchestrated her rescue. Antha smiled smally upon seeing the woman, and with her free arm, embraced the older woman tightly.

"It's so good to see you." She looked Narcissa over, shaking her head. "You look very well." Better than she did at the Manor. She looked ... happy. She looked like an entirely different woman, with a different life. "I... I'm glad you're alright. Last I heard you were staying with your sister-"

"In the beginning, there weren't many that trusted my intentions," Narcissa admitted. She glanced towards Molly, who was listening to their every word. "After a while, I was given a safe house and an Auror guard." Narcissa smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry I didn't try to contact-"

"No," Antha interrupted. "You shouldn't have tried to contact me. You did the right thing." She gave the woman a once over. "He would have learned of your location... associated Draco with your escape... it was better you didn't try to contact at all."

"Have you seen Draco?" Narcissa asked conversationally.

Antha shook her head, glancing around the Hall. "I thought he was with you."

"He must be within the dead," Narcissa sighed. Antha felt her eyes grow wide with alarm. She had seen Draco briefly in the Hall, following the war. Everything was well with him. He had been alive. What had changed? "Oh, no, you-" Narcissa smiled. "No, he's no doubt looking to see who amongst his friends are gone."

"Oh," Antha said, relaxing. "Oh..." She gazed towards the fallen. "How many friends?"

"Most," Narcissa said quietly. "Many fell, Antha."

She frowned slightly, her eyes turning to the two red-heads beside her, watching her closely. She turned away from them quickly. "Before Ava begins to cry once more," Antha requested of Narcissa. "I fear she could wake the dead next time."

Narcissa found this amusing, but agreed and they intercepted Angelina and Hermione, before weaving through the many stones and cots littering the hall. Antha's steps faltered as she spotted the dead. They were laying one by one beside each other, some cleaned, some still bloodied from battle. All faces she recognized. Her uncle, her cousin, another cousin, a third. Her childhood friend, her dormmate- It became too much. The memories, the most prominent with each face she saw, were overwhelming, stirring up emotions in her that she couldn't understand.

"As I said," Narcissa said gently. "Many fell."

And the fates they escaped swirled around her. Azkaban for most, the Kiss for some... fates she would be given as well. The girl in her arms would no longer know her mother, would most likely be raised believing whoever took her in was her mother.

"We need to keep moving," Hermione spoke up.

Antha turned her gaze from the bodies quickly, seeing Remus and Tonk's still form and it upsetting her the most. They were good, kind people. It made her wonder, if she had stayed ... would she have been amongst her friends?

The spiral staircase to the trophey room was steep and she had to take off her heels in order to go down them safely. Hermione found a few chairs for them to sit in and Antha began to feed her daughter, swallowing as Narcissa gazed at her sadly.

"They are very angry with you," Narcissa told her quietly.

"I know," Antha answered simply. "I've always known it would be like this."

"We trusted you," Angelina said quietly. "You were like our sister, and then you go behind our backs like this? Marriage? Two children? You're pregnant-"

"Didn't you read the article?" Antha asked gently, staring down at her daughter. "There were more than one. I read them myself. I miscarried a week ago. I had become severely ill with an infection from the injuries I had received from my mother's torture at the end of March... The child didn't survive."

"Oh... I'm sorry," Angelina said quietly.

"We know of the potion," Narcissa said carefully. "The Order does anyway. They know the truth. Everyone else-"

"That is how it is to remain," Antha said firmly. "I don't want their lives to be full of-" She stopped, clearing her throat. "Tom and I adopted them as if they were our own... he wished for an heir, a successor, if he were to pass."

Hermione sighed. "You will not be given custody."

"I'm well aware," Antha said strongly. She needed to be strong. She could feel the barriers straining, and though she didn't have a wand, she closed her eyes to try wandless magic to make them fortified. She couldn't risk the barriers breaking. She would be flooded with emotion that would destroy her.

"I was so worried about you," Narcissa said carefully. "Draco would send updates on what he knew... but ... he couldn't say much. He says that you were treated nicely."

"Very well," Antha responded. "Like before. He acted as though nothing changed."

"That's good," Narcissa relaxed. "You suffered minimally."

Antha snorted. "If by minimal, you mean he bedded me twice a day, then yes, very minimal." But last night had been nice... last night they had made progress... and it was progress they'd never make again. She cleared her throat. "I did suffer minimally. Tom was very kind to me. It could have been worse, I realize that."

The women seemed uncomfortable with the information Antha presented, or they simply were uncomfortable around her. She didn't know. Once Ava had been fed, Antha burped her, thankful when Hermione cast a scourgify on her, and they mounted the stairs so that the segregation between Antha and her children would begin again.


	25. Chapter 24: Comfy Prison

Her eyes met the dark, brooding man's own. He was... Merlin. She didn't wait for any word from anyone around her. She passed Ava to Narcissa and rushed forward, engulfing the man in a hug. She was mindful of the bandages around his neck, but Merlin...

"I was so sure you were dead," Antha murmured, her face pressed against his chest. "You bloody idiot."

"And you believed him when he said I was?" Severus scoffed, his voice, though hoarse, amused. "I thought you knew better."

"I thought I did as well," Antha answered. She stepped back, observing the wrappings that covered his wounds. "Nagini?" she guessed.

"Of course."

"Lestrange," a voice snapped. Antha jerked, glancing towards the voice to see Molly approaching. Lestrange. Right.

"Do not lose hope, yet," Severus murmured.

"I cannot lose something I do not feel," Antha murmured. The red head woman grabbed Antha's arm sharply, pulling her towards the cots in which she came from.

"The Order is discussing where to put you before your trial."

"And the verdict?" Antha questioned, her eyes observing the way Molly was avoiding her gaze, her mouth set in a stern look, but her eyes were wary, as though she wasn't sure what to think.

"So far, until further observation can be made into your crimes, you will not be going to Azkaban. We're deciding, however, where you will go instead." No Azkaban? At least, not right now? It was... well, unexpected. Tom had warned her Azkaban was possible, and it was something she had known when she first stayed with him. He told her tips to make it as pleasant as possible, things his followers had told him. If it becomes too much, turn into the animagus form. She didn't want to tell him that she didn't have one, but at least it was something she could work on with her life spent in a cell. He advised her to eat every single meal, even if she suspected there's something in it. It was better to die a quick death, than that of starvation. "-Auror will give you the final verdict."

She blinked, trying to figure out what she had missed the woman say. She just decided to nod, instead, and returned her gaze to her two children - Narcissa bringing Ava back to Salazar. A group of Order members were huddled about a few cots, seemingly in a deep discussion. George was there, his face red as he argued something fiercely. Fred seemed to be in agreement with whatever his brother was saying... and Harry Potter. She wasn't close to the Potter boy. She had barely met him, despite being close to the Weasleys. They were more acquaintences than friends... but still, he argued as well. For her? She doubted so... but his actions today... he didn't seem too hostile towards her, at least.

She didn't know how long she was staring at her children, but she was interrupted when a throat cleared and a woman, someone Antha didn't recognize, stepped in her way. "I am Auror Penwell," she introduced herself. "You are Philantha Riddle, correct?"

"Yes," Antha said quietly.

"From this moment on, you are hereby placed under arrest for multiple counts of murder, unauthorized use of the Unforgiveables, as well as the association with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers. The Order will keep you in their custody for an observation period before your actions are weighed with their severity, be it through trial or deliberations. Your dependancies will be put into Andromeda Tonks and Hermione Granger's care until a more permanent location can be found for them." Her children...

She was forced to her feet, and she didn't realize how tired she was until she swayed slightly. And then she was moved away - away from her children. "Wait-Don't I get to say goodbye to Ava and Salazar?" she breathed. The woman hesitated, but shook her head. Antha's breath left her and she struggled in the arms that were holding her. "No, but-but, wait! I could never-Please-"

The Auror brought her to a halt. "You have been stripped from any rights that you would have been previously given," her voice spoke firmly. "The Order will decide what will become of you."

"But, I have to-" She felt her breath catch as she was removed from the room. She felt the weight of their absence crushing on her and when the Auror released her, she couldn't help but just stand there, anchored to the ground. She could never see her children again... it was possible. She didn't want to think it, but it could happen.

Hermione appeared, followed by Draco. "Thank you, Auror Penwell," Hermione said sharply. The Auror hesitated, eyeing Draco uncertainly. "Auror Penwell!" The Auror scurried off and Draco snorted.

"You're a scary witch, Granger." He grabbed Antha's arm, shaking her slightly. "Hey, alright there, Antha?"

"I will never see them again," Antha murmured. "They're gone, aren't they?"

"I'm taking them to Andy's within the hour," Hermione said regretfully. "I'm sorry."

"Take care of them," Antha requested urgently. "Make sure they're happy and ... and fed and... loved, please... it's all I want for them-"

"They'll be in good hands." Antha knew that, but they wouldn't be in her hands. Maybe it was better that way... yes, it was better that way. They'd have a better chance at happiness if it wasn't a future with her in it.

Draco apparated her away and she was surprised when they landed at the Burrow, the home vacant. Hermione appeared just feet from them, gesturing for them to follow. She carried a silver key in her hand, which gave her access to the wards and unlocked the home.

"You'll be in Charlie and Bill's old room," Hermione informed her, walking up the stairs. Draco was behind Antha, trying to get the cuffs off of her hands.

"So, this is the Weasley home, huh?" Draco huffed. Antha realized with a jolt that he had probably never seen it... Not on the inside, at least. "I was expecting something in the ground, you know. The Burrow and all. Weasels live underground."

"Oh, shut up," Hermione huffed, but the usual hatred wasn't in it like before. What had happened between them. Hermione opened a bedroom door on the second floor and Antha peeked inside. She had stayed in this room before. When Angelina, Alicia and her would stop by the Burrow, this was their room. "Molly said you'd recognize it."

"I do," Antha admitted. "I've stayed here before."

"Then I'll leave you here with Draco... I have to get back to the castle."

"Bye, Granger." Hermione left the bedroom door open and Antha waited until she heard the sound of apparation before she questioned Draco.

"What happened between you two?"

"Well, we sort of ran into each other in Battle. I was with Zabini and Goyle... don't ask," he said quickly when she grimaced. "I was trying to get them to defect but they wouldn't. I ran into Granger and Weasley... They had heard the argument, but Goyle set the bloody Room of Requirement on fire... Goyle died in the flames, Zabini was really burned... Potter took Zabini on his broom, Granger took me - though in all honesty I was the one keeping the broom up. She was petrified on the broom. Rescued me."

"And just like that seven years of animosity is gone?" Antha questioned quietly.

He smirked. "I think she has the hots for me." He frowned, looking down a the cuffs still on her wrists, tucked behind her body. "I'm sorry, I can't get them off. I don't know what spell it is, and I don't want to make them any tighter."

"It's okay," Antha said quietly. "What's another few hours?" She fell back on the bed, uncomfortable with her arms behind her, and bit her lip at the thoughts in her head. "Draco... I'm glad you're okay."

"I'm glad you made it, too. Had me worried for a minute there when you stepped forward... I didn't know you were going to surrender, I thought you were going to take Potter yourself. You looked angry enough."

"I looked angry?" she questioned, surprised.

"Oh, yeah," he nodded, leaning against the wall. "Like furious the Dark Lord was dead. But when you announced the surrender of the Death Eaters you just... you kind of collapsed."

"I... I wasn't angry. I was just..." She had felt worried for what she would say. "I thought Harry might kill me, or the Death Eaters would ignore me... I was worried."

"I'm glad you're okay."

"You too, Draco."

Slowly, the Weasley family trickled back into their home, going to their bedrooms to sleep off the adrenaline that had pumped through their system during the war. It was a good idea and one Antha wished could could take, but she couldn't sleep with these cuffs digging into her back.

A knocking sounded at Antha's door and Draco glanced up to see Molly hovering in the doorway. "You can leave now, Draco. Your mother is waiting for you in the living room." Draco nodded and glanced at Antha, but she wasn't looking at him. She stared at Molly, waiting for some verdict that the woman would hold.

Once Draco was gone, Molly shut the door and stared at the nineteen year old. "You saved George."

"I made a promise," Antha said quietly. "I would return him to you."

"Thank you," Molly admitted.

"I didn't do it for you," Antha said sharply. She stared at Molly and the mother stared back with unconcealed hatred.

"Yes, well, it's amazing what people will do to save their own necks." Molly sniffed as though she was insulted. "Breakfast is at eight sharp. If you aren't there, you will miss it and no one will save some for you."

"Understood," Antha said stiffly.

She flicked her wand at the cuffs, wordlessly casting the mystery charm to unlock them. They fell to the floor with a thud. Molly picked them up quickly and moved back towards the door, as though getting any closer to Antha would infect her.

Another charm was soon to follow, knocking Antha back a few inches in surprise.

"A binding charm. We don't want you to run off," Molly said. Like she really thought Antha was going to run? Molly left, shutting the bedroom door behind her. Did Antha truly have the capability of running? She had no where else to go. Malfoy Manor was no doubt being raided by the Ministry. Riddle Manor was no doubt confiscated... She had no where. No one.

She stood from her bed once she knew Molly wouldn't return and gazed around her room. She had lived here in the summers, knowing she couldn't return back to the home she grew up in - Malfoy Manor. Being sorted into Gryffindor had strained her relationship with the Malfoys, who had to keep up their reputation of being heartless Death Eaters in case of the Dark Lord's return. She would stay there some nights, but was more than welcome to the Burrow, and this room had become her second.

Once Tom had risen once more, this room was her permanent home. There was only one bed, and when Angelina and Alicia visited, they would all squeeze onto the bed together, giggling and talking late into the night about the Weasley twins, the object of each of their affections.

Looking back, Antha realized how foolish she had been. The girls were her best friends, but such information couldn't be trusted with anyone. It did Antha little good.

She walked towards the cupboard, pulling it open to reveal her school uniform, old school books. She knelt down quietly, so as not to make a noise in the living room below her - where she could hear the only Weasley and Order members awake, congregated. She scanned through the school books, and then stopped at the end of her Transfiguration textbook.

George, can you please stop doodling in my textbook?

Sorry, Anth, I'm bored.

Then pay attention, she had written.

You could go with me to the Yule Ball. I'd have plenty to think about instead of doodling, then.

The Yule Ball? she had asked. Why should I go with you?

Because I'm the more irresistable twin.

Fine, but only because I simply can't resist you. If Fred had asked, I may have been disgusted.

She shut the book quickly, closing her eyes. She was so different, then... She couldn't be like that. She doubted ever again.

"I'm sorry," she murmured aloud. And she wondered if everyone she would ever disappoint in the future would know that. Would know how sorry she was... or how sorry she truly should have been.

Molly's look of hatred flashed before her eyes and Antha's hand went to the cheek that had been slapped earlier. And the Aurors, they all hated her. The people of the Wizarding World. People hated the things they feared the most. The things that made them uncertain. And Antha was exactly what caused the most fear. Who was she?


	26. Chapter 25: Resurrection

She awoke promptly at seven, feeling disoriented by the lack of a child crying, or Salazar accidentally kicking her when he tried to see if she was awake. She awoke alone, her gaze fixed on the wooden ceiling of the Burrow, reminded of what had transpired.

She was a widow.

She didn't expect to be widowed so young. Nineteen... It was young, younger than anyone she knew. Though, she supposed with the war it wasn't entirely impossible. But, then again, she didn't expect to be married at nineteen either.

A knock sounded at the door, making her sit up and clutch her head. It hurt, as though she had a migrane. "Are you up?" George. She rolled out of bed and pulled the door open, fixing her hair as he glanced around her room. "Breakfast is soon... I thought I'd get you up before you miss it. Also, Dad wanted to talk to you."

"Did he say what about?"

George grimaced. "Me, apparently." Oh, of course. She closed her bedroom door shut behind her and followed him down the stairs, apprehensive as she was met with Mr. Weasley pouring over some documents on the dining room table. It was the location of many Order meetings, and also where all family meals were held. "I got her, Dad."

"Oh, thank you," Arthur said, glancing up. She stepped forward, surprised when Arthur smiled warmly at her. "I'm afraid, my dear, you've caused quite a mess." She was well aware. "I have to file quite a bit of paperwork to get George's death overruled." Oh. So it wasn't to talk about what happened. She hadn't come up with a good enough excuse for that, yet.

"Is there a reason why you need me?"

"Yes, you see, as a witness to his survival of his... well, near death, I'm going to have to get a Wizard Oath that he is alive, and the memory of the circumstance."

"The memory?" she echoed. She paled slightly. "I-I don't think I can give that to you, Mr. Weasley."

"It's always been Arthur, my dear, and it always will be." Why was he so kind to her? "And whyever not?"

She swallowed, sitting down at the table across from him. "I don't have access to it, you see? I... My mind has been placed under strong shields so that my memories are no longer accessible. I knew too much about both sides, that it was dangerous to walk around with an unshielded mind."

"And there's no way we could bring the memory forth?"

She shook her head, biting her lip. "No."

Arthur seemed conflicted with that. "Very well. I'll have to go to the Ministry to make an inquiry about how to move forward." He rose, shuffling his papers in a pile. He paused at the folded up Daily Prophet. "You might want to read this." He pressed it into her hands and she was confused, until she opened it up and she was on the front page. The image of her embracing George in the Great Hall was covering half of the page, and the large words proclaiming Dark Lord's Wife Surrenders! told her just what the article would be about.

"What...?" she murmured.

She found the article at the very bottom, nearly two paragraphs in length, but leading to many more articles within the paper.

"It's all they can talk about. Nevermind Harry, now. It's you," Arthur told her, a small smile on his face. "I really must be going. Tell Molly I've headed to work, will you?"

"Sure," she answered non-commited, squinting at the small print.

Philantha Lucinda Lestrange, if you'll recall, became a Riddle in the early hours of the morning nearly four weeks ago. After supposedly betraying the Order and siding with the Dark Side, the Prophet has learned that Philantha may not have been as disloyal as previously perceived.

A close friend to the witch, and spy for the Order, wished to remain anonymous, using instead the moniker of Silver. Silver told the Prophet that Philantha whole-heartedly supported the Order's cause and only joined the Death Eaters in an effort to keep the one she loved safe - the once believed dead George Weasley.

If you'll recall from our March 28th article, George Weasley was reported dead after being delivered to the Weasley residence by Philantha herself. It was announced in the early morning of yesterday, at the Battle of Hogwarts, that George Weasley was in fact alive and Philantha had been to one to ensure he remained so.

Silver gives us an inside account of how George Weasley had been presented to the Death Eaters as a prisoner, and her begging for the boy to live, led to her faking George Weasley's death and her also marrying the Dark Lord.

Was there any love at all? Apparently she didn't love the Dark Lord in the slightest, leading to many people's opinion of her lightening. Her affection remains, to this day, Silver claims, for George Weasley. George Weasley and Philantha were both sorted into Gryffindor nearly nine years ago, and have been close friends since. Though they never dated, it is reported that they attended the Yule Ball together, as well as many Hogsmeade dates.

No comment has been made by either Philantha Riddle, nor George Weasley, but there is hope that perhaps the Dark Lady really wasn't so dark afterall and her surrender was just her hoping to prove which side she was really loyal to. To the unexpected hero, Philantha Riddle.

For more information on the Philantha's schooldays, turn to A2.

For more information on the Battle of Hogwarts, turn to A3.

For a list of those dead or missing, turn to B4.

For the story of George Weasley's death and survival, turn to A4.

A hero? They thought she was a hero? She had never suspected that would be the case, not even when she begged for George's life. She knew, though, that whoever Silver was, was either Draco, Severus, or Narcissa. And judging by the name, it wasn't Severus. Severus was much too quiet to do something, and wouldn't pick a pretentious name. Draco, then.

She would kill him. It was information he wasn't to share.

"So you read it, huh?" George asked, standing in the doorway. She glanced at him, and then down to the paper.

"How much do you remember?"

"Not much," he admitted. "I was dying, in that cell. You were trying to save me, but it wouldn't work... so you went to someone for help. I don't remember past that point and then waking up in your bedroom."

"Good."

She watched how in the picture her shoulders were shaking from her cries as she embraced him, burying her face in his chest. Was it truly only yesterday? "Don't you think you should tell me?"

"No," she admitted. "It's in the past. You don't need to know... You're alive. That's what matters."

She flipped the page to find more images of her, one from the moment of surrender. Her hair was straight down her back, and her body was frail, skinny... she looked starving, which was mentioned on the page in a small article. They were pitying her, trying to make her seem weak, seem the victim. She looked nothing like herself. Nothing like she remembered looking.

"You should probably get some food. You've lost a lot of weight," George said after a moment.

She shut the paper sharply, glancing at him. "I'm not really hungry... I-I think I'm going to skip breakfast, go to my room and sleep a bit more. I didn't sleep well."

"Would you like a Dreamless Sleep Draught?" he offered almost immediately, almost overeager to help her. "I have some-"

"No, I'm fine, thank you," Antha answered politely. She held her hands in front of her, clutching them tightly as she moved past him. "I'll see you later."

"There's a meeting tonight," George informed her. "You're invited... well, you don't really have a choice, but I thought a little forewarning would be good, you know?" She nodded in thanks and moved towards the stairs. "Are you sad?"

"How can I be sad?" she asked, rhetorically. "The war is over, George. He's gone. It's what everyone wanted in the end."

"Is it what you wanted?" he questioned. She stared at him, trying to distinguish what he wanted her to say, what he was truly asking. She couldn't decipher. Did she want the war over? Did she want the Dark Lord dead? She did. She always did. Nothing, not even a month of marriage, would change that. He was a horrible man that was bad for the world, for her children, for her.

She didn't answer and moved towards the bedroom, shutting the door behind her and sinking down on the bed, staring at the wardrobe that contained all of her old things from when she was younger... innocent... more careless.

Her happier self.


	27. Chapter 26: The Will of the Dark Lord

The sun had began to set when a sharp knock on the door alerted her to someone. She rose from her bed, feeling slightly numb. She had gone through all of her Care of Magical Creatures text that she had found buried under a few articles of clothing. There was simply nothing to do. A visitor couldn't have been bad. But she immediately wished she hadn't opened the door when George was standing there. She only knew it was him because of the missing ear, but she moved to close the door-

"Not a chance," George said, pushing the door open and entering the room. That smell... Food? Her stomach rumbled, telling her just how hungry she really was. She could eat a horse, she swore. George held up a hand, showing a plastic bag with ...

"China Wall?" she whispered, glancing at him with surprise.

"I got take out," George said sheepishly. "I figure you're mad at me and what better way to cool that than some good old fashioned fat food."

She took the bag from him, peering inside. Even her favorite chicken! "How did you remember this? It's been... it's been years since we've had this."

"Well," George smirked, plopping down on her bed and bouncing slightly as it sprung up. Antha set the bag on her desk and pulled out a box of chicken and a box of rice for herself. There was nothing inside for him, it seemed. "I've had about a month being trapped in my own flat, with only a few hours to work in the store a day, and the need to figure out what happened that night." Antha used some chopsticks to take a bite of the chicken, nearly moaning at the flavor. It had been so long since she had Muggle food like this. "So I reviewed all our memories together and this just so happened to be one that stood out."

He was perfect. "You didn't do anything, so there's no memories to review," Antha said quietly. She sat beside him on the bed, chewing on a clump of rice slowly. "I wouldn't have let you die."

"What did happen that night?"

She didn't answer, just shook her head and took a bite of the chicken, drenched in teriyaki sauce. No plate, but that was okay. It made her feel... normal again. "The Order meeting is soon, isn't it? I've been hearing people arrive since dinner ended."

"Yeah, after you eat," George input. There was silence as Aquila ate as much chicken and rice as she could, but eventually she was too full. And she hated the silence between them, but she didn't know what to say.

She had risked his life enough, risked his entire being, and then thrown him at his brother, telling them both he couldn't be seen until the Dark Lord fell... if the Dark Lord fell. If the Dark Lord hadn't have fallen? He would have been found and killed. She would be killed. The Dark Lord for lying... Her children... She couldn't even think of it. Tears filled her eyes and she hurriedly closed the chicken box in front of her to distract her from being outed in front of him.

"I went and saw your son today."

Antha froze from putting the box into the bag. Her head whipped around to look at George, her eyes wide. "What?" Saw him? What did that mean? He ... visited Salazar?

"Yeah, I went to Andromeda's house. Her and Hermione are taking care of your kids and Teddy." George looked her over, seeing her slightly rigid. "He seems pretty nice."

"He's perfect," Antha said quietly as she sank down on the bed. Her eyes went to her clasped hands and she bit her lip. "How was he? Is he okay? He's scared or anything?"

"He's a little... freaked out. Hermione and Andromeda are telling him that Moldywart is really sick and they had to take him away before he got sick too. And you're with him, helping fix him." Antha only nodded. He was sick. A sick, demented person that did nothing but hurt people. "I told him you'd see him soon."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Antha told him sharply.

George didn't look offended in the slightest. "I'm going to keep this one. They adore you, Antha. Dellia - because you gave her the longest name in history and I'm not even going to try to pronounce it - may be young, but she loves you. Salazar loves you." George met her eyes and reached for her hands, grasping them tightly. "I love you."

"Don't say things you don't mean," Antha whispered. She pulled her hands from his own, a spasm of pain crossing her face. "Don't say things I want to hear, but you don't feel."

"I really do love you, Antha. I have for... bloody hell, I can't even remember when I didn't. Ever notice how I didn't date girls like Fred?" George made her look at him and she glanced at their hands after a moment. "I mean it. They love you and I love you and ... and maybe that's difficult for you to understand, but I will fight tooth and nail for you to not go to Azkaban."

Her hands slipped from his and carressed his cheeks. "You don't want me. No one should want me. You want me and the entire world will talk about how I love potioned you, how I seduced you and am tricking you into liking me. Wanting me will ruin your entire life. Don't want me. Give me up, George. I'm begging you to."

"Screw the press," George insisted vehemently. "Do you think I care about the press? I almost lost you-"

"I lost you," Antha said sharply, cutting him off. "I had faked your own death, remember? It looked exactly like you, talked like you, and... I had to kill him and it felt like I was killing you. And delivering him to your mother... God, I lost you all over again twice in a night, even though every night I would sleep right next to you in bed, to make sure you even continued to breathe. To make sure you could wake up at all." Her thumbs rubbed against his cheek bones, a bitter smile on her lips. "I watched you be tortured, I tortured you myself. I lost you. And I deserve every bit of it."

"You haven't lost me until I say you've lost me," George shot back. "Merlin, Antha, why can't you see? We all care about you. Yes, Mum's pissed at you, but what mother wouldn't be? Yes, we're a little wary of you, but you did surrender the Death Eaters. What else are we supposed to think? Half the Order thinks it's a plot to lower our defenses. While the family disagrees, it's a bit hard to trust you completely after you sort of threw it in our faces once." George stood, her hands falling from his face. "Let's go to the meeting. It should start in a few minutes."

"You know I never promised to bring you back alive," Antha told him. "I just promised to bring you back."

"And you did," George told her.

Antha just nodded, stepping back slightly. "I'm ready for the meeting."

"Then, let's go," George sighed. He reached for her hand once more, but she clutched them tightly in front of her so he couldn't take them. Instead, she followed him silently down the stairs, hearing the many voices of the Order shouting and talking... laughing. Merlin, how long had it been since the war had ended?

As soon as she entered the room, it became silent. She kept her gaze on her hands and followed George to a seat at the end of the table... like a tribunal, then. She supposed she deserved it. She could feel their eyes on her, watching her... judging her. She wanted to laugh, and she wanted to snap at them. She wanted to stare at herself, too, to see what she looked like. She could only guess something awful.

"Welcome, Philantha," Molly said after a moment. Antha nodded shortly, clenching her jaw. Philantha, not Antha. Of course Molly hated her, but it hurt to hear all the same. "Do you have anything to say to start us?" A small shake of Philantha's head told the matriarch no. "Very well, then we'll begin with Order comments. George?"

"She had no choice but to be there. He had her son," George said firmly. "She went willingly to protect her son... any mother would do the same. Any mother has done the same." His gaze went to someone to Antha's side and she glanced towards it to see Narcissa. "We can't put fault on her for something any of us would have done, too."

"We wouldn't have killed and tortured for our loved ones!" Ron spit out. Antha could feel the hate off of him. "That's what makes it a monsterous act-"

"Big word, Ron," George returned. "Were you there? Because last I remember I was. I know what she did, who she did it too. But that's ... that's a small piece of evidence. She didn't want to. She doesn't kill people for fun."

"Do you need to? She took a life! Lives!" Ron shouted.

"That will be enough," Molly snapped. "The both of you." Antha saw George lean back in his chair slightly, like he was defeated. "Perhaps this was a bad idea. Shall we instead... move onto something else?"

There was a shuffling of parchment as they seemed to organize themselves. Antha stared at the grain of wood on the table, not wavering as she listened to her fate dancing in front of her. One wrong move, and she'd be gone. One right pirouette and she'd be free.

"This is the last Will and Testament of Thomas Marvolo Riddle." Her head snapped up in surprise at the voice. So much like his own, yet there was something... different. Defeat. Acceptance... Antha didn't know, but it was strange to hear. She narrowed her eyes at the parchment in confusion as it took the shape of Tom Riddle's face, and then glanced towards the parents of the Weasley brood. They were watching her, judging her reaction. Antha swallowed and turned her gaze back to the parchment, staring at it with no emotion. It was just like him. "Dated April thirtieth, 1998. To be read after the event of my untimely death in the beginning of May, 1998. This document should be read in the presence of the Order and my wife, Philantha Riddle, nee Lestrange." The way it said her name... He always pronounced her name wrong, but it carressed his tongue. He did on purpose, she knew, but to hear it now... it was the correct way of saying it. Phil.. An...Tha... Not ahn... not Pheel. . . Philantha. She didn't know what to think of it.

"I'm not listening to this-" Ron snapped.

"Sit down," Molly returned. "You're being appalling."

"So was he."

"I will be long dead by the time this will is read, rotting in the ground or burned beyond recognition so that I may never return. They're all gone, the horcruxes... I will never return. I suppose your gratitude for that goes to Harry James Potter, the boy wonder. The one I could not kill. Throughout your journeys, I could feel what you were doing to my soul... destroying it and ripping me apart. I'm not certain if the entire escapade made you feel like a hero, or a zero. You risked your life on a fool's errand to make it all ... right in the world. And you succeeded. But I knew the entire time what you were doing with my soul... with my horcruxes. I wasn't immune to the pain. I could have made more, but it wasn't worth it. Even my wife agreed with me on that front.

"Philantha..." The sigh that followed made her look up as he met her eyes. The eyes that were so black... so dark. "Oh, Philantha, you infuriated me to no end." His voice turned bitter and harsh. "I wanted to murder you and yet teach you everything. You were a walking contradiction, everything I should have hated... I watched your mother torture you and I didn't blink. I watched you torture others with pride. I watched you broken and sobbing and begging without remorse. I hurt you without a care. I loved you with everything I had. Not very well, I'll admit that." Antha snorted. No, he didn't do a very good job at all. "You didn't love me, and that's all I could think about. You loved him... you always did, even in the beginning. And I knew that. I hated it. I hated him. I wanted to kill him, and I wanted you to watch." Antha didn't doubt it. She smirked, waiting. "But I couldn't, because of you. You were my greatest weakness... my biggest regret. My only regret."

"Antha, you don't have to stay for this," George murmured to her.

She shook her head slightly, staring at the parchment. "It's fine. He's said it all before."

"Yet as the days drew closer to my death, and your freedom seemed to be more within your grasp, I clung to you like a newly wed husband his first night with his wife." She hated the analogy. "You seemed happy, though you never smiled... You haven't as I write this anyway... Your thoughts may change, I remind myself after another night with you. You may one day decide to at least like me... It will never come, but I still wish for it. I pray to that God you brought into my home that it will happen, but he has not granted me such a pleasure. Perhaps he doesn't grant such selfish things. A real smile from you... a real smile that isn't in bitter amusement, but genuine happiness... that's caused by me and not the children, or a book, or a song... A smile. It was all I wanted from you."

Antha had had no idea. She wondered if she would have know, if she would have smiled sooner, and not the days leading to the battle. "You are sitting next to me as a I write in my study. Your feet are propped up by the fire and Salazar is beside you, watching Avazkadellia sleep. She has only been in this world for a few days, yet she has matured wonderfully. She hardly cries when she is in your arms, and she has your beauty. Salazar just asked you once again about your scars, and you ignored the question. You hate them... I hear your nightmares at night, crying out in pain... crying out for me to go away. For me to leave you alone. For me to stop hurting you. For me to stop your mother. Looking back, I wonder if I should have, but if anything, it taught you and the others loyalty. You didn't break then. You were stronger than I could have ever imagined. It was me that broke you and then built you stronger then you had ever been. And you only broke because of that boy. That George Weasley."

Antha felt George glanced at her in confusion. He didn't know. "You sacrificed everything for that boy. All of your hopes and dreams to rid yourself of me went out the window when he was dying. You begged me... you cried at my feet for me to save him. I will admit I had no idea how to react. I had never seen you so lost... so broken... so unknowing of the future. I feared that if I didn't save the boy, I would have lost you that night as well. You looked so close to slipping away." There was a pause and she could feel people watching her. "It was after he was recovering that I made you take the vows, swearing your loyalty to me, on the pain of our son's death. An oath to love me... I was a selfish man. Maybe I still am? Yet you seem... happy? Would a selfish man being in the same room as you make you happy? I'm not sure. The only thing I am sure about is that you're content.

"To the Order, that are listening to these words, know that Philantha never willingly participated in anything. All of her missions, the wedding, the killings and tortures, they were all instructed by me. I know that in the events of the war, you find her an unfit mother, but you can look at her memories and see just how untrue that is. Salazar has been terrified of me since the day he arrived and Avazkedellia is still too young to understand. Taking them away from their mother won't help things. Keep them together... Don't send her away to Azkaban. She has done things yes, but never willingly... She may not have been under the Imperious curse, but there is more than the Imperious to make a mother do something drastic for her children."

The parchment paused and Antha had to glance away. She looked to the table, tracing the grain in the wood with her eyes. A hand found her own, squeezing it tightly. She followed the arm to see George, giving her a reassuring squeeze, to remind her he was there. She didn't need the reassurance. The Dark Lord was gone. There was no need for her to feel angry ever again. To feel confined ever again. But she squeezed his hand back in thanks, glancing to the parchment again.

"I give Philantha everything. My estate - the Riddle Manor - of where we are currently resting. Your room, full to the brim of whatever flits across your mind, but you never ask for, is all yours. All the treasures inside from the rare China dolls to the oldest books ever to still exist. From the jewelry of my family to the money of yours. I place her in charge of my Death Eaters, and hope she does what was agreed upon - surrender. And I hope that they listen."

"She was ordered to surrender them! It wasn't her decision! She is still loyal to him!" Ron pointed out.

Antha lowered her gaze to the table, tears in her eyes. Merlin, she knew they didn't trust her, but this... this was hurting her to listen to. They loathed her.

"I don't understand how I fell so in love with you," the Dark Lord continued. "I don't understand how I stayed in love with you. I don't know what drew me in, that was so different from the others. I don't know what made you so worthy to be who I chose for an heir - I only know you volunteered to save another. I don't know what has made me defend you time and time again, my credibility at the expense. I don't know why I could hurt you without remorse and then cringe when you shied away from me. I don't know why you could act like nothing happened... I don't know how many shields you put on your mind to block out the events you experienced - the raids I sent you on. You always seemed normal... you always were able to wake up and be yourself... But I know you shielded your mind. After the raid on Diagon Alley, I worried about you the most. I worried I had finally made you snap - that you would become as insane as your mother. That you would lose everything and then lose your mind. Arson was always your specialty, breaking hearts was something you learned to do along the way.

"You asked me, once, what happened to the man you met. What happened to the man that could make you laugh and smile... What happened to me? The answer I'm not sure of. Four years ago, when we first met, you and I ... were like teenagers. And then you found out who I really was... I think that's when your fear started. You had overstepped boundaries, even then. Why do I love you? I ask myself that every day. Even as you stretch out by the fire as Salazar falls asleep at your side, and you glance at me, to make sure I'm still there. You look away almost immediately, like you're disgusted. You probably are. And I don't know how this turned into a narrative, a long letter addressed solely to you. But you looked back because I accidentally spilled my ink bottle in my hurried writing. I can feel the battle upon us and I don't know how long I have left with you. Hours? Weeks? Days? It's not enough.

"And you've finally done it. You smiled. More out of amusement as the ink had spilled on my robes, but you smiled none the less. As cliche as it sounds, it makes me feel warm. It makes me feel... human. Not some Dark Lord that's trying to take over the world." She had remembered this moment. He hadn't smiled back - he hadn't even found it funny that she was amused at his expense. "I don't know how to respond to it? Anger, that you're laughing at me? Happiness, that you're even laughing? Fright, that it's such a foreign emotion? Or frustration, because I won't see it again?" She bit her lip. "I yelled at you, and Avazkedellia woke up. You glared at me, offering some angry response, and stormed out, taking Salazar with you. Now, I'm alone in my study, and it feels cold. I suppose this is how it always is - lonliness. It's cold and dark. And there's ink all over you. To think I survived seventy years without someone, and then threw it all away for you."

"I used to be used to being alone. I used to like it, crave it. I could think. But now I can no longer think when I'm alone. I need you to talk to - to bounce conversation off of. You enhance my ideas - you make my plans more foolproof. You were the best strategist I have ever known. It is a shame that no one will know your wit and charm. I consider being selfish every night - on if I should end your lives with mine." She started at that, surprised. He would have murdered her? "I don't want anyone to have you when I'm gone - I want to be the last person you see. I want to keep our children with me... I want us to be a family, together, in the afterlife. I want to murder you in your sleep so that you're all mine." There was a long pause and Antha looked away from the parchment. Merlin's beard, he was demented. "But I can't. Every time I even attempt it, you shift in your sleep and a smile touches your lips as you mumble my name. In your dreams, do I make you happy? Or do you dream about your love with Weasley? I don't know, and I don't know if I want to find out. I don't know a lot, with you.

"I think about it - about probing your mind and discovering every secret you've ever swore to keep. I have, once, when we first met - your mind was easy to get into then, unnoticable. Now, you'll notice if I even attempt it. But you sleep so peacefully... After everything I've put you through, you still sleep beside me and will tell me you love me, even though we both know it isn't true. All to play our parts, right? I want to order you to stop lying to me, but I feel like knowing what you truly feel will hurt more. I'm tired of hurting.

"The Battle is approaching. I can sense the death in the air and the ... and the fear. I won't let you fight... I want you to stick to the plan. I want you to go back to the Order... I want them to trust you, because it was I who caused them to not trust you any longer. Maybe our children will be safe there? I don't know how our children will survive in a world where I am gone - where I am the mortal enemy for generations to come. They will ridiculed and ostracized. You know this, I know this." Antha hated to think about how true it was. She didn't know how to prevent it. "I pray you'll find a way to keep them from experiencing that... Keep them from following my lead. Keep them from the Dark Side."

There was another long pause and the parchment ruffled. "This is the Last Will and Testament of Thomas Marvolo Riddle Jr."

The parchment folded neatly in on itself and the room reigned silence for a few moments. Antha shifted in her seat, waiting for the reaction.

"Thoughts, Philantha?" Molly asked tightly.

She didn't know what she could have said differently, looking back. "He did make me happy in the end."

The Order murmured. Antha kept her eyes on the table, not giving them the satisfaction of seeing her confused - vulnerable. Her will would do enough of that.

"Did you know he wanted to kill you?"

"I always suspected that one day I would piss him off enough that I wouldn't breathe in the next moment," Antha answered. "I always suspected that in the beginning. The middle, things were good. It was more give than take, but... that's normal with him. And in the end, he was weird around me... like I was bomb about to explode... Like he was walking on egg shells. I didn't know why at the time... perhaps pregnancy hormones, I would rationalize. He didn't want to set me off. And then when Ava was born, it was worse... He would be overly kind - as kind as he could be, anyway. And I was afraid, yes. Because I didn't know him like that - I didn't know who he was. What would set him off. I had no idea he wanted to kill me.. in the end. For nothing other than to be with him... I just thought he'd murder me for angering him or disobeying."

"When was the oath of loyalty? The wedding?"

She was quiet, thinking. When was it? When did they want it to be? Before everything she did? After? They probably wanted before. But Draco had left after... Narcissa had left before. Draco had the marks, Narcissa had the memory. "When it was in the Prophet," Antha answered after a moment. "After the raid, after the killings... It was right before Ava was beginning to grow... It was the day before it appeared in the Prophet. Everything else I did before that was done by my choosing."

"Very well. And so your crimes were committed when you were fully aware of the consequences?"

"My crimes are discussed in my will," Antha answered quietly. "I was fully aware during each of them. I was fully sane... as sane as I am now. What happened was a fault of my own destructive actions. I deserve the full sentence for each."

Molly seemed very disappointed in the girl and it killed Antha. She looked back to the table. "You were on the run last year, why, girl?" Snape asked suddenly.

She swallowed. This answer had been rehearsed, specifically for Death Eaters if they ever asked. "I was following Potter. George and I left together, but we split up. During that time, I began to spy for the Dark Lord, telling him where Potter was whenever I could. I lost Potter at Godric's Hollow and I was too afraid to go back to the Dark Lord to tell him that... I stayed away, running and trying to find Potter anywhere I could. When George and I regrouped, finding the Burrow destroyed, I went to Riddle Manor and retreived them... And I told the Dark Lord how I had lost him. I received my punishment, just as though I would have stayed there for the year instead. I proved to them my loyalty." It was only slightly altered.

"Your loyalty to whom?" Severus pressed.

"To them," she answered, her eyes darting to him. "I proved to them that I was loyal to them. I endured the worst kind of pain for them. I fought for them."

"You fought for no one else?" Severus continued. "Your children? Your life? Other people's lives?"

"Your loyalty isn't mine," Antha told him sharply. "You were loyal to yourself and only yourself. After Bricyt, you did everything you could to give you the advantage - be it on the Order's side or Tom's. Don't think no one noticed. Tom would have made you his successor, but he said he had to kill you. That's how good you were... how much he believed in your loyalty. So why should I tell you mine? Would you believe it like Tom believed yours? Would you trust me inexplicable by saying the Order and renouncing everything I've ever done for my ex-husband?" She laughed, shaking her head. "My loyalty doesn't lie with either of you, nor myself. My loyalty lies with my children. Whatever will benefit them, benefits me."

"And the Order won't benefit them?"

"The Dark Lord could offer them a safety the Order could not. The Dark Lord could offer them a future of well-being where the Order could not. I chose to stay with the Dark Lord because of the opportunity and the future my children had with him. Now that he's gone, they are no longer safe, they no longer have a future. They will go out in this world - to school, to the shops, and they will ... they will be ridiculed, laughed at, whispered about... The Order doesn't have a best interest for them... There's no way there's a best interest for them now. And that's terrifying for me as a mother, and for me as a prisoner... I used to be with the Order... I used to root for the Order... But I have forsaken the Order, and the Order has forsaken me." She nodded to herself and glanced around. "I don't care what side I'm on anymore. I've done things that are the darkest of crimes... I've given life to the lightest of creatures... I guess that leaves me in the gray area... Is a bad deed truly bad if it's for the right reasons?"

"What were your reasons?" Molly asked.

She hesitated. "I wanted my children to survive. I wanted them to know of a life none of us ever knew. Not me, not Tom, not my parents, nor any of you around the table... a life without war, heartache... a life without good or evil. Just living. It's all I want for them, it's all I have ever wanted." Antha stared at the Weasley matriarch. "Don't you want the same for your children? All seven of yours have survived the war - have beaten the odds... You've never lived on the edge - you've never lived never knowing if when you wake up, your husband will kill you for looking at him wrong... Every single moment of my life, from the moment I retrieved you, I've been watched. Every moment I've slept, every moment I breathed or walked or took a bite of something... either Tom Riddle has been there, or his snake... His snake that had grown so fond of me, she'd sleep in my own bed, layering your son under her body, and I will admit I was terrified. But once George left... once it was just me and Salazar... and Ava, I didn't care what happened to me anymore. Does that make sense? Because I knew they'd be safe... it was George that wouldn't have been."

"How did George survive?"

"It's in my will," Antha said stiffly.

"You delivered a body-"

"It's in my will."

"You seemed so upset-"

"It's in my will," Antha repeated, her voice firm.

"Will you answer questions after your will?" Antha only nodded to Arthur's question. Answer questions? She didn't see how they would have any questions after her will.


	28. Chapter 27: The Will of Philantha

There was a rolling of parchment that directed the attention to the center of the table. Arthur was flicking his wand, causing it to unroll and float a few feet above the table, just as Tom's had. And it slowly morphed into Antha's face, the ink turning into literary hair and the parchment her skin. Her eyes were closed, so the inky black of the ink couldn't be seen.

Parchment Antha began to speak then, her voice soft and subdued, defeated.

"This is the last will and testament of Philantha Lucinda Riddle nee Lestrange, dated April twenty-first. In the event of my well-deserved death, or the incarceration of my person, I ask that this will be read as it dictates what is to become of my children, my belongings, and my land holdings." There was a pause. "This will was placed under my pillow, in my bedroom in Malfoy Manor, later moved to Riddle Manor for the birth of my daughter. If this will was found in any other location, it was either tampered with or may possibly be the incorrect will."

Molly nodded and the parchment continued, as if it noticed that.

"My life has been a pathetic story," Antha began, the real Antha sitting at the end of the table, her hands folded on the table in front of her, her head bowed to look at them. "Born to two Death Eaters as Dark as they could become. A mother that had never cared for her daughter, and a father that wished he had a son. A pair of Death Eaters that were so wrong individually, they were so right together. The darkness was born into me, and I grew with it until my eleventh year, where I was brought to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, taught about the good, and met a family that took away all the Pureblood and Dark Arts ideals I was raised with.

"The Weasley brood was the best thing to ever happen to me. While I'm sure the family would disagree now, I felt like I belonged there. I wasn't the Gryffindor daughter of Death Eaters to them. I was just another Gryffindor that was friends with their sons." There was a pause and a breath exhaled from the parchment. Antha never lifted her eyes. "So I will begin my will by listing off the reasons why, if I am not dead, I should be taken to Azkaban prison, in the same cell as the mother I came from - 327 B. The B ward being that for the criminally insane.

"My murder, torture, and unforgivable spell list is... it is quite long. And by the time this list concludes, I pray you'll already see me for what I truly am. A daughter of a Death Eater and the wife of the Dark Lord, nothing more honorable, nothing less than sadistic. I lived how I was taught to live, and that does not mean I regret it. Because I do, where at times I do not." She saw George twitch beside her and Antha showed no emotion. She had prepared for this moment, if the moment had ever happened.

"My list will start with minor infractions and by the time I reach my list of murdered, they will be major infractions in accordance to wizard law." There was a pause and then the parchment Antha opened her eyes, the ink black looking around the room before speaking. "Spells I have used-" Antha noticed that a few Order members were scrambling for parchment to write down what she said. "-include the Avada curse, five times. The Cruciatus curse on thirty different people. The amount of times that spell had been used in total for each person, and together, is unknown. I was unable to determine. The Imperius curse was used three times, two times on the same person. Sectumsempra used a single time, the person having died from its use. My list of dead will come later."

The will paused before it began once more. "Having researched wizarding law, that is the only set of spells that I have found strictly forbidden - sectumsempra being added after Potter attacked Draco Malfoy in the lavatory." Antha swallowed and looked up, knowing what was next. "For my list of those I have seriously injured, maimed, and tortured, the list is as follows in no particular order. Molly Weasley, Diagon Alley. Arthur Weasley, Diagon Alley. Nymphadora Tonks Lupin, Diagon Alley. Remus Lupin, Diagon Alley. Lavender Brown, Brown residence. Draco Malfoy, Malfoy Manor. Dean Thomas, Malfoy Manor. George Weasley... Malfoy Manor. Bricyt Snape-" Eyes darted to Severus, bandaged and battered, sitting stiffly in his chair across from Hermione Granger. "-Malfoy Manor." He showed nothing, betrayed nothing. Antha didn't expect him to. "Rabastian Lestrange, Riddle Manor. Madame Callidora Malkin, Diagon Alley. Claudius Cook, Diagon Alley. Paderau Eideard, Diagon Alley. Kristina Badcoke, Diagon Alley. Frederick Weasley, Diagon Alley. James Llewllyn, Malfoy Manor. Thomas Marvolo Riddle Jr, Malfoy Manor." There were gasps of surprise, but Antha couldn't stop her lips from twitching. She still enjoyed that moment.

"Nicholas Harper, Malfoy Manor. Violet Harper, Malfoy Manor. Elizabeth Harper, Malfoy Manor. Cyril Tarrings, Tarring residence, Malfoy Manor. Peter O'Neal, Malfoy Manor. Victoria Edging, Malfoy Manor. Marie Anne Holcomb, Malfoy Manor. Redmund Doherty, Ministry of Magic. Dorthea Sayer, Malfoy Manor. Aeson Sayer, Ministry of Magic. Nowell Breckenridge, Malfoy Manor. Dorean Parris, Malfoy Manor. Mael Coluim Mac Naolmhin, Mac Naolmhin residence." There was a pause and Order members were scribbling furiously, obviously intent on seeing how many of her tortured paired up with her murdered.

"Nearly half of those above were committed at the age of sixteen, when I first joined the Death Eaters. The rest were from just my five weeks in their care following the death of George Weasley." Eyes darted to George in confusion.

"My list of those whose lives I have taken include Bellatrix Lestrange, 39, Pureblood, Riddle Manor. James Llewllyn, 53, Muggle, Malfoy Manor. Nicholas Harper, 38, Muggle, Malfoy Manor. Violet Harper, 37, Muggle, Malfoy Manor. Elizabeth Harper, 7, Muggle, Malfoy Manor." There were gasps at the thought of her murdering a child, but Antha kept her eyes firmly on the parchment, staring ink the inky eyes that represented her own. Her scars were barely traces on the parchment. "Cyril Tarrings, 83, Mudblood, Malfoy Manor. Peter O'Neal, 24, Half-Blood, Malfoy Manor. Nowell Breckenridge, 62, Half-Blood, Malfoy Manor. Mael Cluim Mac Naolmhin, 93, Mac Naolmhin residence. Kristina Badcoke, 23, Pureblood, Diagon Alley. Madame Callidora Malkin, of whom I was informed died from her injuries sustained as a result of my torture three days later, 58, Pureblood, Diagon Alley."

The parchment will turned suddenly and stared at Molly Weasley. "My next crime is one that I must confess to you, Molly, and your family. It concerns George Weasley, whom I delivered to you on March 27, 1998, as a dead man that had befallen a cursed object or a Death Eater curse. It is a grief no mother should ever bear, nor be involved in, but it is one I put you through. By my offense is not killing your son. I never did. I, instead, lied to you about it. The body delivered to you was not that of George Weasley, but instead James Llewllyn, a Muggle that resided near Malfoy Manor. The early hours of March 27, a day I'm sure you've never forgotten, I begged the Dark Lord with a vigor I knew not of, a strength I never knew I possessed. That to protect one I loved not related to me by blood. Perhaps you hate me, even in my death, but I do not blame you. What I did to you and your family is inexcusible in its own right and I sincerely apologize for it. Know that it tore my heart in two seeing your suffering and I deserved every ill word delivered to me that early morning.

"I promised you I would keep him safe and I did what I could to maintain that promise. Frederick Gideon Weasley knows the location of George. I can promise you with confidence that he is alive and well, as that was my condition in trade for my absolute devotion to the Dark Lord. Fred played no part in the scheme against your family, but he was merely a victim I sprung George's survival on seconds before I left George in his flat. He only did what he could with the warning I gave him, a warning you knew to be true in your hearts. If the plan had been ruined - a plan crafted by the Dark Lord himself - Tom, Salazar, Avazkedellia, and myself would have been murdered immediately. Someone else, that would not hold back as Tom had done for you, would have taken his place as Dark Lord and done far worse damage in this war than what happened. It was the safest plan for both sides, and for the Dark Side to slowly surrender its power to Order forces. You'll never know how sorry I am for the pain I've caused you.

"If I could leave you with anything, for I possess nothing of my own, it is with the knowledge that your son is alive and I did not get him killed. What you saw in the mirror was very real, and he truly was dying that night, had I not begged for his life to be spared. But with the news of his life, I must burden you with the tale of how he came to your doorstep that night, as well. James Llewllyn, the Muggle I mentioned, was brought to me. I had tortured that man for hours, his screams echoing throughout the Manor, and my father and Uncle joining in. I killed him once he refused to make a sound and, glamour charms long in place, delivered him to you. It was a show to put on, to show the Death Eaters I was loyal to them, and to ensure that my previous absenses would be forgotten. But make no mistake.

"His death was by my hand, his torture as well, and it was a willing hand without anything other than sheer want in my head. His death was the one death I do not regret out of my long list. His death brought your son life. If I have survived the war, and you are reading this while I am sitting in a Ministry cell, know that I deserve nothing more than a dementor's kiss. If I would have survived, meaning I had died by the time the peace reigned, I wish I had the kiss, as I deserve no mercy for my deeds in my life, than can easily be forgiven with death." The will turned and met Antha's eyes once more. "Dean Thomas, one of those I tortured relentlessly for information, is a man that I never had a chance to apologize to. His torture was the longest I have ever had to watch, and he was strong through it all. Not once did he give away any secrets. He managed to escape and flee to Hogwarts, his escape being apart of my design. If Dean Thomas is sitting amongst my will reading, please know that I am terribly sorry for the pain I put you through. I'm so sorry.

"My beautiful children... I will always be proud of you, even if I cannot be with you. Salazar Marvolo Riddle, you will... you will do amazing and good things to this world. You will learn all that there is to learn, see all that there is to see, and love all that you can love. Your life is more precious than you can ever know and I pray you'll make good choices. I have nothing to leave you except for my Bible. I discovered it in the Muggle world while I was on the search for Potter, and I brought it with me to your father. We'd read it for hours on end together, in my room, if you don't remember. You on my lap, your father across from me, and we'd read until meal times came." The voice of the will became unbearably sad and a drop of ink fell from it, landing in the middle of the light wooden table. It stained immediately, soaking into the wood and making a black tear drop. Antha remembered writing this part. She had begun to cry.

"Take care of your sister, read to her the Bible as well, teach her what I taught you, because I will not be there to do so. To Avazkedellia Iliza Merope Riddle, I leave you my jewelery, the many things your father has given to me, the Weasleys, my friends, my mother, and my father. The Ministry will check them for dark residue, but I doubt you'll know they're absence. You are probably only a week old, yet as I write this you are kicking in my womb and forcing me to eat these weird foods I've never heard of - very expensive and specially imported from Romania. I don't even know what they're called, but they taste good to you. You'll be a princess, I know it. You'll have men fall to their knees and countries warring over your hand. Choose someone good, choose someone nice, choose someone that is unlike your father in every regard. I know you and your brother will not become the people your parents were. I hope you do not. Both of your godparents are Andromeda and Ted Tonks, but due to Ted's death, and Teddy's birth, I have decided to unburden them with the care of another child, and instead have named you wards of the Weasley family. They will treat you right, and proper, and with love. I will always love you both. I will always put you two first.

"My two landholdings, Lestrange Manor and Riddle Manor, are to be taken to the Order at will. And my vaults are to be divided amongst my chidren evenly." There was a pause before the voice was very formal and stiff. "This is the last will and testament of Philantha Lucinda Riddle nee Lestrange."

There was silence as the parchment crumpled to the table, a silence where everyone seemed to take it in.

"Well, that's a bunch a crock," Ronald Weasley said suddenly. His hair was messy, but he still looked like himself. Ron's blue eyes were haunted with the memories of war and ringed with red from crying. "She's using the pretty words of the end to make up for all the death and torture she mentioned in the first half. She's trying to get away with it all. She's using it to save herself!" Antha said nothing to deny it. "She tortured you, mum, dad! Tonks, Lupin, Fred! Dean Thomas, even! She killed a seven year old girl! We can't let her get away with that! Snap her wand, throw her in Azkaban, in her mother's cell - the same mother she murdered, even if she was mental - and put her kids to some orphanage. They're spawn of the Dark Lord! She's a spy for him-"

"That will be enough, Ronald. We all know what you're thinking," Arthur interrupted. "Many of us have the same thoughts. However, I feel Philantha should have a moment to deny any claims you're laying against her."

Eyes turned to Antha, but she just smirked, her hands falling into her lap before she spoke. "I am a spy. I was a spy. I spied on the Dark Lord for the Order, and the Dark Lord had methods of his own to spy on the Order. I am not trying to save myself. I'm trying to go to Azkaban for all that I've done. I deserve it." She met Ron's eyes. "I used the Order members that straggle along to my advantage, questioning them about things that were hardly important, but important all the same. I told these to the Dark Lord and Death Eaters at meetings, keeping my information fresh so as to maintain the air I did what I was supposed to do. My first week there, I was free to spy on whomever I wished, and I chose a Muggleborn I knew had connections to the Order. A Muggleborn with a past with Ron. I tortured her, yes. And when I obliviated her of the encounter, the most curious thing happened, Ron."

She gave the youngest male Weasley a smile that promised pain. She hardly used it but now seemed like a good time. "You just appeared, you see. You came out of the woods behind her house and you..." Her fingers mimicked the pattern of a person walking on the tabletop and she stood, leaning over the table as she kept eye contact with him, "walked right into her home. Her parents were gone, were they not? Claimed by the war. She was alone, but she faired well, I'll give her that. And oh, the sounds the two of you made. I could hear them from the street, you know. You lot weren't exactly quiet."

"What? That's-Nothing-What are you-You little-" Ron sputtered, obviously furious as his face turned an unhealthy shade of red. He seemed to have difficulty breathing.

She grinned like a shark and pushed her chair back, moving towards him. He was forced to remain seated by Potter on one side. "Don't make it worse," Potter muttered under his breath, but obviously apprehensive as Antha stopped behind Ron's chair. Her hands gripped his shoulders, making him sit straight against the back of the chair.

"And yes, the Dark Lord was vicious. Rape was his favorite punishment. And he loved it when I fought back tooth and nail." Her finger ran along the edge of his jaw and he flinched away from her. She giggled and gripped his hair tightly, holding him still. "He loves it when I fight. He also loved it when I _fucked_ him like a perfectly willing pet. His little whore." She kissed his temple lightly, her eyes staring down at him. He jerked against her grip but her eyes flashed and she slammed him against the back of the chair, making a few Order members draw their wands. "Hard and fast and slow... All at once. He brought me to the edge more times than I could count and he was oh so good at it. And he loved it when I cried out his name." Her cheek rested against his own and she mimicked a voice mid-sex. "Oh, Tom. Mmmm, Tom, right there. And he loved to use spells. Oh, there's nothing better. Crucio was the best. I don't recall a night where I _wasn't _satisfied."

Ron looked particularly green, but she continued, a pleased smirk on her face. "Tell me, Ron, how is Lavender in bed? I can get the vocal part... hmmm, let's see, how did it go?" She mimicked the mid-sex voice again, breathing deeply into Ron's ear. "Oh, Ron." She switched ears suddenly, in his other. "Oh, Lavender. Merlin-" Her fingers trailed through his hair. "And I always would wonder, on my little seat in front of her house, if you were still with Hermione." She glanced in Granger's direction to see that the woman looked positively horrified. Antha just needed to up it to one last level and she'd leave the impression of a Death Eater that was captive. She just needed to push a few buttons. "Oops, I probably shouldn't have said, hmm? You think I'm dark, Ronald, and I won't deny it. You think I'm crazy, and I know I've already lost a few screws somewhere in the war. I'm a murderer, I'm a torturer, and I'm an arsonist. I murdered someone that looked like your brother and laughed about it to the Dark Lord when I returned." She hadn't really, more of slept, but well they didn't know that. "I was the lover of the most feared man in the world. And I'm still here, even though dozens that deserved to live died instead. I'm not trying to save my life. I want to go to Azkaban. I want to go to a Dementor guarded cell. I think that's the best for me, don't you?"

She stepped away from Ronald and moved towards her chair again, a pleased smirk on her face. "My children can stay out of my case, don't you think?"

"You murdered your own mother! Do you want your puny daughter to kill you!"

"Ron-"

"Better her than you," Antha returned sharply.

"Show them," George said before Ron could say another word.

"Show them what?" she questioned, stepping mildly away from George. What was he on about?

"While you were eating, I noticed something on your hand. Something that most people would overlook, as we all got scars in the war-" He grabbed her hand and she struggled, her eyes wide. He would ruin everything. He would ruin the payment she was giving herself. He pressed her hand to the wood and forced her to stay still with a glare. "Unbreakable Vow. She took one with Draco Malfoy. He has the same scars." Eyes darted to Draco sitting quietly beside Severus and then to Narcissa. "Narcissa mentioned it when she arrived tonight, but we all brushed it off, remember? She has the scars, as does he. If they were to take hands, they'd line up perfectly."

"What are you doing?" Antha hissed.

"You saved me, I'm saving you," George returned.

"But-But I don't want to be saved!" Antha stated sharply. "I want to go to-"

"Yeah, you do, but I begged you to kill me, and you kept me alive," George snapped. "I say we search her memories. Before deliberations. We have to understand everything and all she's trying to do is sway the verdict."

Antha snatched her hand away after they all stared at it and then eyes fell to Draco. "Clasp hands," Arthur directed the younger boy firmly.

Draco stood immediately, holding his arm out to Philantha. Antha let out a breath of disbelief before taking his arm. They held each other's eyes firmly. "We made a promise," Draco told her quietly. "We don't leave each other behind."

Antha faltered and glanced down at their arms, the pale scars lining up perfectly. And they seemed to glow slightly, until they were the same brilliant white light it had been when the Vow was first made. "Until death," Antha told Draco quietly. The blonde wizard released her arm and her own fell to her side, before she faced the Order.

"Very well, we'll review your memories, Philantha. Do you consent?" Arthur asked.

Antha didn't see how she really had a choice, since George had volunteered her, but she nodded once. It was a mess of which memories to take, until finally Snape had enough of the arguing and stood, making everyone silent and seated. He strode over to Philantha and held out his wand. There was a particularly painful looking bandage on his neck, one she didn't know the origin of. His eyes warned her that if she fought back, he had no qualms to body bind her and take the memories by force. And that would be very painful. "Lower your shield."

Antha let out a breath before doing as requested and their eyes met before he was in her head. She couldn't fight the natural instict to kick him out of her head and that just made it painful. She gasped and pressed her hands to her skull as if she were stopping it from exploding.

"You're hurting her!" Potter cried.

"She's been placing shield after shield over them, Potter. She's been protecting her mind for so long that it's trying to fight my intrusion." Her head pulsed with so much pain, so much suffering, so many faces. And as soon as it started, she was released. She stumbled back, falling into her chair, panting. His eyes watched her, and she stared into his black ones. They had seen far worse than she had and he seemed to be entirely whole. He acted as though he lost nothing. Like twenty years hadn't passed since he sold his life away. He was stronger than Antha could ever be. "Next time, when I say don't fight back, and lower your shield, I mean it."

"You sound just like him," Antha returned with a quirk of her lips. His own twitched.

"Yes, well someone's got to," Severus said darkly before procuring a vial. The memories attached to his wand fell into the vial and a pensieve was placed on the table. And Order members left to venture inside, Draco and Hermione the only ones to stay behind.

"What memories did he take?" Draco asked.

Antha shrugged, "No idea. I tried to keep most of the torture ones protected, but he got just about a little bit of everything, I'd say. Especially the one when I went to you before George died." Draco nodded, knowing what she was talking about. "He seemed to focus on it."

"Good, that'll clear me, too," Draco said simply.

"Draco?"

"What, Lestrange?"

Her lips quirked. "Riddle. And... thanks, for sticking with me."

"Thick and thin, Lestrange. Thick and thin," Draco said absently as he crossed his arms.

"Riddle," Antha corrected yet again.

"Are you? You look pretty single to me."

Antha didn't know how to respond to that. She sat quietly where she was, staring intently at the pensieve. "So, Granger, are you a thing with Draco? Because everytime I'm with one of you, the other always shows up."

"No, I just don't feel it's necessary to review your memories. I've been taking care of your children. They're alright, so it's safe to assume you're alright, too," Hermione stated simply. "Afterall, if you were a lost cause, they'd be evil, wouldn't they?" Antha's lips twitched in acknowledgement. "And thank you... for, uh, exposing Ron. I would have never have known. I mean, he did leave us for a few months, but that was near Christmas..."

"I never meant for you to find out like that," Antha said quietly. "I sort of snapped."

"He was trying to get you to," Draco muttered. He smirked at Antha suddenly. "Though I do gotta admit, that was hot, Anth."

Antha laughed at that. "I'm glad for you, Draco." She ran a hand through her dark hair. "How long do you think they'll be in there?"

"Not too long," Granger said quietly. "Time's faster in there." Antha could only nod and ran her fingers along the wood. "Who gave you those scars?"

Antha glanced in her direction sharply. "My mother." Granger held out her left arm, exposing pale scars that read Mudblood. Antha raised an eyebrow, leaning forward in her seat. "That's ... that's what she did to you? I heard that she got a little excited, but I never..." Antha hesitated before running her light touch across the slightly raised bumps on the girl's arm. "The same dagger..." Antha drew back her hand. "This was the same night I was there, right? You went to Shell Cottage afterwards?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, we saw you in the dungeon, passed out, with George, but we couldn't get you out. Your injuries were too severe." Antha shook her head. She didn't care about that anymore.

"You got out. That's all that matters," Antha said quietly. Her gaze returned to the bowl of water. "Now we just need to wait for them to get out."

Escape from the nightmare, though, is what she really wanted to say.


	29. Chap 28: Deliberations and Condemnations

They all were spit out at once. Many of them looked visibly shaken, and some looked repulsed. George glanced in her direction, but she didn't meet his eyes. It was something she never wanted him to see.

"You begged for my life," George murmured as he sat in his seat.

Antha bit her lip, truly worried now about what they had seen. She didn't want them to see too much... She didn't want them to see everything. "I did," Antha admitted, quietly. There were eyes on her, eyes watching her. There were always people watching.

"Antha..." Molly started. "You should have told us."

"I made my own decisions," Antha said stiffly. "I deserved the outcomes."

"Not those," Molly said quietly. Ron was even a little pale, his eyes on the table. "Antha-"

"I ask for a fair deliberation. My crimes weighed with the severity of their sentences," Antha interrupted. "I ask that my punishment there not be looked at in the deliberations."

"Then we ask that you'll step out of the room."

Antha didn't know about that. But she nodded and rose, her hands flat against her sides, and she walked passed the table, shutting the dining room door behind her. A silencing charm was put in place. Antha knew she could leave at this very moment, find her children - find a place to raise them... The Muggle world? But she had no home - no money now that her father was still alive. She could live in Riddle Manor, as it was hers now, but she didn't see how that would help. They could find her there... they could find her anywhere with her children still under the trace.

She sat at the chair outside the dining room, her gaze wandering to the hall mirror... the mirror that had changed everything. An enemy in the Burrow's own hall. It wasn't broken, like the Dark Lord's had become. It was... normal looking. She didn't trust it, though.

Suddenly, the door to the dining room opened and Bill Weasley was there, giving her a timid smile. "Um, they might take a while. I'm going to keep you company."

"Oh, okay," Antha said quietly, confused as to why they would feel that need. Until she realized he was to guard her. She didn't even have a wand. She folded her hands in her lap, listening to the clicks of the clock. All of the family was in the home area, now. None of them were in imminent danger. She wondered what the clock had looked like when she had delivered George. There was no space on the clock for death... just extreme danger... Perhaps he was there.

"She was a wreck, you know," Bill said suddenly. "Mum. She cried all the time. And she was so angry. She would throw things and scream at everyone... Then there was Fred... We didn't know what to do with him." He paused as Antha said nothing. Was this to make her feel worse. "We had to stop him, you know, from killing himself."

She glanced at him sharply, surprised. The happy brother... the twin that didn't take too many seriously. "I ... I had no idea."

"Mum walked in on him trying to Avada himself... He couldn't do it."

"Good," she said softly.

Bill leaned against the wall beside her, continuing. "We had to watch him... After two weeks, he started to act normally again... I suppose we know why now."

"I had to do it," Antha said carefully. "Him being dead would have been far worse than what I did... He lived... Right? He... he didn't die... Fred didn't lose a brother. You didn't. Molly never lost a son."

"No, not then, but she knows what it feels like. Percy died at Hogwarts."

There was a pause, and Antha nodded. "I'm sorry... The feeling is horrible."

"When have you lost a son?"

She stared at him a moment before turning away and staring at the mirror once more. "When I first had Salazar, I lived in constant fear he'd be taken from me and I'd be murdered... I had parents that never showed me affection besides teaching the Dark Arts. I didn't want that for my son... I left him, lived a better life, a safer life while he... while he lived in an Orphanage and then he was finally in a home. He was in an orphanage where I very well could have lost him forever... he could have been adopted, died from sickness, found... I may not have lost of son, but I lived it every day in my head."

"And Mum didn't? She knew she could have lost any one of us."

Antha swallowed. "I know."

"Did you love him?"

"George?"

"No, You-know-who."

She didn't know if being honest or not would help her. "Yes," she answered. He nodded in her peripheral vision. "Yes, I did."

"Why? What did you see in him?"

"What did he see in me?" Antha returned evenly. She shrugged. "He was... someone I don't know how I grew attached to. Perhaps it wasn't love... but I felt something for him."

"Did you cry when he died?"

"No... I knew he was going to die. I didn't feel any sadness for his passing. Just sad he could have been such a horrible person and never have been told as a child that it was wrong... perhaps he wouldn't have become who he was today... It was only because of his parents, you know. He hated his father for being Muggle... Hated the Muggles because of it, because his father ditched his mother for finding out she was a witch... and his mother. He despised the Purebloods for his mother's weakness... for how they treated her and how she was so weak in return... I was everything he hated. A pureblood siding with the Muggles... How could I cry for someone like that? How could I cry for a man with no sense of human compassion?"

"How could you love him?"

"Touchee." Antha felt it was a valid point to make. "Perhaps I don't know why I did, then."

"You are different."

"Am I?"

"Formal. Stiff... Not bubbly, energetic... You're a shell."

"Yes, well... one must do what they can to survive."

Bill gave a frustrated sigh. "That. That's exactly what I'm talking about. Who are you?"

Antha sighed and gave Bill a forced smile, doing her best to keep the stiff tone from her voice. She couldn't get her mind off of the room talking about her sentence. "How are you, Billy? Any good dates with Fleur lately? She's quite pretty, innit she?"

"Just stop," Bill sighed. Antha straighened her posture and resumed staring towards the mirror. "Forget it..."

Antha swallowed. "I'm glad you're okay, Bill."

"I'm glad you aren't insane."

"I am insane," she told him.

"Been through a lot of shit, Lestrange, but not insane. Not yet, anyway." Antha appreciated his clause at the end. Not yet, she wasn't. Azkaban would ensure she would end up just like her mother. "You aren't her." He cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pocket. "George really does like you... and from what your memories showed me, you really like him back."

"What did you see? In my memories? It hurt too much... I couldn't focus on what he was taking."

"It started pretty normal... There was a meadow, Lestrange Manor in the background, but I have no idea what happened. It was very blurry and I couldn't hear or see much. Just that a man joined you, about your age... It could have been Rabastian, though..." Antha tightened her grip on her lap. "And then it just kept going forward from that point on... A lot of torture sessions - either where you were tortured or you tortured others. Merlin, Antha, how many times were you under the cruciatus?"

"A lot. You gain a tolerance after a while. You act like it hurts, you don't hurt as bad."

"And you just took it." Bill was silent as she offered no response. Antha found she had nothing to respond to. He saw what happened. "I didn't know you were that strong. Bloody hell, even after you rescued Mum and Dad... you almost died."

"I needed their loyalty. Salazar wasn't safe without it."

"So you defaced yourself for it?"

"I needed it. No matter what they did to me." Antha glanced at him. "Would you have done the same? Had it been Fleur? Or your child? She's pregnant, isn't she?"

"How did you-"

Antha interrupted him. "I can tell. She's four months along, give or take a few weeks. Would you have let her die there? Would you have sacrificed yourself for her?"

"In a heartbeat." He was silent, understanding that she was saying it was the same thing. He would have done it if he were her. Nothing changed. "I still wouldn't have been able to endure that much pain."

"In the moment, you feel like you can endure more than you think." Antha glanced towards the door behind. "How long do you think it'll be?"

"A while," Bill admitted. "You should head to bed... They probably won't have anything until morning."

"I'm not tired."

"You haven't slept."

Antha didn't find a point in arguing. They wouldn't come out any sooner if she slept or not. She didn't move from her seat. If anything, she sat stiller. "I don't like it."

"Don't like what?"

"The Burrow. It's different." She turned her eyes towards him, but didn't meet his gaze. "A ghost."

"A ghost," Bill repeated, shifting his weight. "Of?"

"Itself."

"You still haven't slept. Not since we brought you here."

"It's difficult sleeping in a home that isn't what it once was... that no longer brings joy, and stern talking to's, and giggling children. . ." She sighed quietly as he shifted. "It's different. It's hard to sleep."

"How could you sleep there?"

"It wasn't hard," Antha admitted. "I knew what was there. I knew how it would be. I knew I was safe. I had nothing to fear."

"Not from the looks of your memories."

"I would cast the fear away," Antha continued. "Cast away the fear and focus on something else. Focus on surviving. Who knows what happened to me, that I blocked out. It was necessary."

Bill was silent a moment. "Do you love George as much as I love Fleur?"

"Wholeheartedly," Antha answered without a beat. "I love him so much that I don't deserve him."

By the time the clock chimed almost three in the morning, Bill was dozing off, leaning against the doorframe. She waited a moment, shifting slightly to see if he would wake up, but he didn't. Rising, she scribbled a small note from the notepad Molly kept in the third drawer under the mirror, and placed it on the now empty chair, before she mounted the steps, intent on claiming her room and hopefully some rest.

Yet she found she couldn't sleep. Her thoughts raced over what the will of her ex-husband had said. Did he make her happy?

A sudden sob left her and she was struck by the tears that were building in her eyes. Of course he had made her happy. Certainly not at first, and not really in the middle, but in the end... in the end, definitely.

She cried, not only for the loss of her husband, but for the loss of many friendships as well. For the people that hated her and for the people, that despite her sudden heroic view, knew the truth about her. And it was the truth that hurt the most.

She was a monster.

The knock on her door had her sitting straight immediately. She glanced in the mirror to find her eyes a little red, but other than that there was no evidence she had been crying. "Philantha? It's breakfast time."

"I'm not hungry, Molly," Antha responded, swallowing hard as she tried to keep her sorrow from her voice. She had to make them think she was whole.. that she was strong.

"It's about your sentence."

Antha was silent a moment, before nodding and standing. She walked to the door and after wiping her eyes once more, opened it slowly. "I'll be down in a moment. I need to freshen up."

"You look fine," Molly said in what was aiming for a soft tone, but it came out a little strangled. "Antha-"

"Let's go-"

"Wait, Antha-" Molly swallowed, staring at the hands that were wringing over and over again. "You went through the worst things imaginable to save George. I shouldn't have doubted you... none of us should have."

Antha felt the tough exterior melting at the tears the woman had in her eyes. "I didn't expect to be welcomed back at all, so no matter what your actions towards me were, it wasn't going to surprise me."

"You brought him back," Molly whispered. "You brought my Georgie back."

"I never would have let George die," Antha said quietly. "I wouldn't have willingly taken him there if I didn't have plans... other ways to fake it, other ways to get him out. Before... before everything, Draco was supposed to get Salazar out, again, and I was supposed to get George. It was about ready to happen, when George..." She swallowed. "I'll always bring George back to you. I"d bring Ginny, and Harry, and Fred, and Bill, and Charlie... All of them. Arthur, you... I'd do anything."

"You sound... artificial, Antha."

"Living with the Dark Lord has consequences," Antha admitted. "Learning not to feel has become second nature. It's better that way."

Molly frowned, her head dropping. "Is that why you could do it? Live with him and be happy? Find happiness in him?"

Antha stared at Molly for a moment, thinking over her response. Her hands, still folded behind her, clenched around themselves tightly. "He is all I had."

"You have us, again. We'll support you... I'm sorry for everything I've put you through-"

"If I had you, you wouldn't be here telling me this. I would already know it." Antha swallowed as tears fell from Molly's eyes. "May I get through?"

"Antha... We never thought... never expected-"

"Never expected I was always loyal?" The bite came suddenly and Molly flinched at the tone. She softened it, and Antha asked once more, but forcefully. "May I pass?"

Molly's shoulder's dropped, but she stepped aside. She gave up trying to fight with the teen, just like she had given up believing in the teen. Antha supposed it was something she was good at. Surrender.


	30. Ch 29: Presence of Relief, Peace of Mind

"I'm... what?" Antha asked, confused.

"Under the circumstances that your crimes were done while acting loyally to the Order, in order to ensure the Dark Lord's destruction, we can't punish you for them. We've discussed it with Kingsley... he's granting you a full pardon for your actions, and wants to offer you a Order of Merlin, First Class."

She frowned, confused. "I murdered people... I married the Dark Lord... I went to him willingly-"

"And ensured the end of the war," Molly said simply.

Antha shook her head. "I can't accept that."

"It's either that or Azkaban," George spoke up. "Would you rather your children think of you as a hero, or be ashamed to call you their mother." It was harsh, but it was true. She wasn't a hero, though. She was... she was a pathetic victim that had done what she could to save her own neck.

"I want them to know the truth, not these... these lies you're painting to make me seem like a good human being." She bit her lip, staring at the toast on her plate. "Why does Kingsley have the power to do this?"

"He's been appointed Minister. The old Minister died the same morning the battle ended. There are investigations, but we suspect suicide." She bit her lip. Of course Kingsley was Minister. It was a position fit for him. "He wants to pardon you."

"I can't accept that," Antha said quietly.

"You have to," George said exasperated. "You don't really have a choice, Antha."

"And if I choose Azkaban?" she demanded. "What then? You-"

"Would never allow it," George interrupted. "You're not going."

"I don't want the pardon," Antha said stubbornly.

"Too bad," George snapped.

"No, I'm not taking it."

"Kingsley's already granted it," George smirked. "The announcement is being made in the Prophet this morning."

"Sneaky," Antha commented, her glare pinning him to his seat, but he didn't seem too affected by it. "Very much like a Slytherin I used to know."

Breakfast ended in silence, and when the Prophet arrived she didn't wish to look to see if what they said was true. She exited the home, mindful of her binding boundaries, and sat down on the front stoop with her eyes closed, breathing carefully. Her shields were teetering, like a Jenga game, nearly about to fall over. She had no other choice but to fortify them once more. They couldn't weaken.

She couldn't handle it if they broke.

"Thank you," a voice spoke up. She opened her eyes and spotted Potter, standing a few feet away from her, his face sheepish. "For what you did at the battle."

"Which part?" she questioned, glancing away from him and towards the corn fields.

"For surrendering, for telling him I was dead-"

"He knew," Antha snorted. "You think he's an idiot? He knew you were alive, that I was lying... I nearly died lying for you, Potter... My Unbreakable Vow makes it so that I can never lie to him, with the Order in mind..." She swallowed, exhaling. "You're welcome."

"I'm sure you would like to say a few words to him ... you know, without him getting angry or whatever...," Harry said after awkwardly shoving his hands in his pocket. "Um, here-" He placed a small black stone in her hand, biting his cheek. "It's the-"

"Resurrection Stone," Antha interrupted. She stared at it a moment, before holding her hand out to Harry. "I have nothing to say to him."

"Please, just... We sort of want to be able to test whether or not it's possible he can come back if someone finds it... Please?"

Antha swallowed, but nodded in agreement. She didn't want to face him. It was like a boggart she was deliberately stepping in front of. Harry led her to the back garden, where Molly, George, Hermione, and Bill were already. An audience. Of course. She should have known.

"You turn it three times for it to work," Harry informed her. "Thinking of bringing him back."

"And how do I get him to go away?" she asked.

"You let go of the stone," Harry answered.

She nodded and gazed at the Weasley brood before she closed her eyes, facing forward, to the corn field. Merlin, this was going to hurt, wasn't it? He'd be nasty. He'd criticize her for her actions in front of all of them. He'd ruin her for the seperation of her and her children. He'd ruin her for her actions.

A tear fell from her closed eyes as she turned the stone three times, her fingers trembling. She almost dropped the stone twice in the process. She knew when he appeared. She knew when he took a step forward, towards her. The grass didn't crumble, but she just knew.

Her eyes opened and they were staring at each other. She didn't know for how long before he opened his mouth. The pink lips of Tom Riddle... the man he always was inside. "Why did you call me?"

The voice was forced pleasantness. As though he could read her terrified thoughts. She fought back a sob from a sudden pang of guilt, her gaze dropping and more tears falling. "They made me."

"Does he make you happy?"

"There is no him and I... there never will be," Antha answered quietly, her voice wobbling. She met his gaze, breathing heavily as though she had run miles. "I had been happy before... before everything changed. Before the war ended. I was happy, then. You made me happy. You were kind, though you had your temper. You were funny... We were great. You made me happy, in the end."

His face betrayed his shock. "You hate me. You despise me. I knew that. I've always known that. I hurt you. I forced you to be my whore, and you did it without much protest. You were always an Order member... you were always too good for me."

"I loved you," she said quietly. The admission was like a weight off of her chest and more tears fell. "I really did. Not at first, not within a few weeks... but you tried... you made an effort... and I loved it. I loved how much you worked for me. How much you tried to get me to love you, even though you thought I wouldn't ever. I loved how you tried to be human... for me. I told you all the time, but you never believed me. You'd get so angry when I said it... You'd strike me or send me away... And I meant it. I really did." She wiped at the tears with her free hand.

"You're lying."

"I'm not." She stared at him, as though desperately. "I really did. Does love stop when someone dies? I don't know. I don't know if I still do. When I summoned you, I'd thought you'd ridicule me... that you'd patronize me because I ... I'm living here..."

"I know. I can linger in the human world, but I can't be seen by anyone other than the one that summons me with the stone. I can't be heard either." Tom glanced around him, meeting the gaze of Potter, before turning back to Antha. "Who do you love?"

"I don't know anymore."

"George. You love George," he said firmly.

"He doesn't love me. He can't. I may be free but... but I'm not who I was... I'm no longer Antha, the Gryffindor. I'll never be Antha, the Gryffindor again. I'm Philly. I'm Anth. I'm Riddle. I'm ... yours. I'm not theirs..." She shook her head. "Do you love me still? Or does the afterlife change that?"

"I'll always love you. I'll never change that." He stared at her. "Go. You need to go. You need to move on from me... You need to get rid of me from your life... Where are the children, Philly?"

"They took them," Antha said quietly. "They're at Andy's... I won't be allowed to have them... not after what I did."

"What I forced you to do-"

"I still did them," Antha snapped. "I still murdered people. I still tortured people I considered my family. I laughed about it. I murdered someone I loved and I was happy. I tortured Bricyt... I ... I ruined all the innocent things in my life. I don't want to ruin the kids, too. I don't deserve them. I can't have them. I don't want to hurt them..."

"I forced you to murder. I forced you to torture. I forced you to torture Bricyt," Tom said very carefully, stepping towards her. Antha shook her head, her hands covering her ears. She could still hear him as he kept talking. "The imperious. You fought it. You fought very well... Better than anyone else I've ever put under it. And I made you say the spells. I made you-"

"You didn't make me do anything! I tortured her! I watched as she cried and begged me to stop! I smiled! And she saw it right before she died! She sought comfort in me after and let me put her in my arms! She sought comfort in me because I tortured her in the first place! She loved me after everything. And I ruined her and she thought it was normal. She didn't think I was a horrible person. And I don't want our children to make the same mistake-"

"I killed her. I killed her in your arms," he snapped. She flinched at the venom in his tone. "I said the spell. I said both spells to make you hurt her and to make me kill her. I did that. Not you."

"I did it, though. No imperious would change that. My arm waved the wand. My hand gripped my wand. My heart wanted to hurt her."

"Not your heart," he said softly. He was only a few feet from her, his face soft and pitying almost. "Your mind, because your mind was forced to think it. If it was your heart, you wouldn't regret it so."

"It was my fault. She was growing soft because of me. Because of my stories and my pictures and my presence. And that's why she was killed-"

"Why were you even there in the first place? You lived at the Burrow. Here. You stayed with me, though. Why?"

"Because I volunteered," she said firmly. "I asked to stay-"

"No, because I forced you to stay."

She shook her head. "No, you didn't. I volunteered. You didn't ask. You didn't force me to. I asked to. I wanted to. I stayed with you because I wanted to."

"To keep someone else safe."

"My motives didn't matter," she insisted. "I still did it."

He shook his head, his eyes going to the Order. "They're testing you, you know. To see what you'll say to me. To see how you'll act around me. No different than I've ever seen, but it's different than they've seen."

She swallowed. "Of course. They don't trust me."

"I didn't, either."

"You gave me more trust than they ever did," she told him quietly. "You gave me missions away... I could have fled."

"Not with Salazar with me..."

"I still could have. I knew Salazar would have been safe. I could have left... for selfish reasons."

"But you didn't. We assumed a trust with each other. And we acted upon that trust."

"I took advantage of how you felt for me... It's why I was so rude. It's why I was so outspoken. Because I was testing your boundaries. Testing how much I could do before it wasn't enough."

"Oh, Philly," he sighed.

"Why did you start calling me Philly?" she questioned. "It was always Antha, until Ava started kicking." He shrugged. "I never asked."

"He called you Antha. I didn't want that name associated with me. I wanted you to think of Philly and think of me."

"I do," she admitted. "You're the only one to ever give me that nickname... My mother was overly fond of just Phil. And you... you were fond of Antha and Philly."

"I was overly fond of you."

She swallowed. "Can you see the future where you are?"

"Yes."

"Will I ever be happy?"

"Yes."

"Will I ever get a punishment for my crimes?"

He stared at her a moment. "It will come and you will accept it. Yes."

She nodded. Then she could live with herself. She could anticipate the moment when she would no longer feel guilty. "Are you happy with how things turned out?"

"Yes. I got the girl, in the end." He regarded her curiously. "Do you mourn for me? Or for your freedom?"

"My freedom," she admitted. "I knew you would die. There is no reason to mourn."

"I thought so." He glanced towards the Order a moment later, thinking. "I must be going... Be sure to go to the funerals. I'd hate for you to miss it."

"Why?"

"You cared for more people there than I had ever known," he answered. "It'd be a final farewell, I think... to my body, to your friends... to your family, especially."

"Maybe. I'm not sure the press would like it."

"You obviously haven't read the paper," he smirked. He exhaled and closed his eyes briefly, before meeting her gaze. "Let the stone drop, Philly. I'm ready to go."

"Will you visit them?" she asked. "Bricyt and the others... tell them I'm sorry?"

"Of course." She nodded, her eyes welling up with tears again. "Farewell, Philantha. We'll see each other in about a century, give or take a few years."

She laughed, throwing her hands to the side. The first smile since she had ended the war appeared on her face. "Only you would spoil the one secret I absolutely do not want to know."

"I didn't tell you when you would die," he insisted, smirking. "I did, however, tell you an approximate time frame. Fate can't be changed, but it can be stretched and folded."

She exhaled in mock-frustration, suppressing her smile as she glanced at him. "Farewell."

"Much love."

"And to you," she returned. Her palm opened and she let the rock tumble down until it landed in the grass, fresh from the morning dew. No tears fell as he disappeared, fading out of existence. She glanced to the others, waiting for them to speak, to ask her anything, but they didn't. "Did I pass your test or not?"

Molly opened her mouth, but it was George that answered. "Is he gone?"

"Yes."

"What did he say to you?"

"Nothing of importance," Antha admitted. "Just that he was ready to move on."

"And your ending exchange?"

"I told him farewell. He said that he will wait for me to arrive in the afterlife. And I countered that it would be to him." It wasn't the truth at all, but she wanted them to rethink her sentence. He had said her punishment would come one day, but she wanted it sooner rather than later.

George's jaw clenched and he glanced away from her. He was angry. Good. She could work on not loving him, next. She needed to.

"Can I talk to you?"

She nodded and George approached, taking her arm and leading her into the house. He thrust her down so she was forced to sit on her bed a second later. She kept her straight posture as he slammed the door shut. "Let me guess, punishment?"

"Why do you always do that? You always lie about it. You always lie and say something that you know will make Mum mad. Why do you try to convince her you love him?"

"You're a fool if you think I didn't," Antha returned sharply. He narrowed his eyes in confusion. "I loved him, George. I really did. Maybe not to the extent I've ever loved anyone else, but I did, okay? And he knows I did. And I don't know how I'll ever love anyone else again."

"What about me?" George pressed. "You saved me because you loved me."

She shook her head. "I saved you because I made a promise. Not because I loved you."

"Stop lying," George pleaded. "You told me you loved me... You told him you loved me. You wrote in your will you loved me."

"He wouldn't have saved you for a promise. He was going to go through your memory, so that saved you from that front. And your family... did you honestly think I wanted to go to Azkaban?" His face showed his confusion and she watched as he leaned against the wardrobe. "We aren't anything. We'll never be anything. I'm Antha, the Death Eater. I'll never be your Antha, the Gryffindor."

"Antha, you'll always be a Gryffindor," he insisted. "You'll always be Antha. You'll always be the Antha I love-"

"Don't," she said, interrupting him. "Don't say it."

"I love you," he said anyway. "I do. I've always loved you. Why can't we be something?"

"Because I don't love you."

"You're lying to my face," he said sharply. "Why are you lying to me? Why are you trying to do this?"

She shook her head, crossing her arms as she glanced away from him. "I'm not lying, George. Please, leave me alone."

"You were supposed to go and live in the flat above the shop with me. Will that be a problem?"

She swallowed. "No. I'll stay in the guest room."

"Okay." George bit his lip. "You also have a job at the shop, if you want it... but I'm assuming not?"

"No, I don't," Antha answered simply.

"Very well..." He moved towards the door. "So I guess this isn't going to ever be anything?"

"No, it won't."

She watched his face as it seemed to harden, but she knew that it hurt him just as much as it was hurting her. "Alright, then. Mum needs you down in the living room by noon, by the way. That's when the Ministry is going to be getting a report saying that my death records aren't real." She nodded and waited for him to leave, but he didn't. "Did I ever thank you for saving me?"

"I'm sure you have."

"I'll just say it again, then. Thank you."

"I did what I could," she returned. She focused on his red hair, which was wavy the longer it grew. Her eyes were then directed to the hole in the side of his head - the holey ear. "Worse things have happened to you."

"Like?"

"War," she murmured. As soon as he was gone she closed her eyes, controlling her breathing. She needed to block her memories but she didn't have her wand. She didn't have any chance to get rid of his face of confusion... to get rid of the ressurection of her husband. No, she would have to remember it. She'd have to feel the emotions that came with it.

The sound of an empty vial falling over made her spring to her feet, her hands going to where she always kept her wand. Her breathing came out fast once she realized she didn't have it... nor could she see any enemy. No one was there.

"Who is it? Potter, if you're under your cloak..." She didn't need to finish the threat. Many of them were frightened of her... and she didn't really have much of a threat to begin with. To be completely honest with herself, she was terrified. She had never been vulnerable like this. The Dark Lord... the Dark Lord was different. She knew who it was.

There was no reply, but another vial tipped over. This one was full of a sleeping draught that had been given to her overnight. She had refused to drink it. "Show yourself," she demanded.

A vial tipped over and Antha backed up another step. "If it's Weasley, I swear to Merlin, this isn't funny. I get it, you don't like me-" A vial fell and crashed on the ground, shattering. She jumped back as the shards skidded across the ground towards her, her elbow hitting the wardrobe harshly.

Her gaze dropped to the pile of shards as they slowly moved and the words "Be Happy" spelled out. She relaxed almost immediately. Did that mean he was still here? That he hadn't gone away when she dropped the stone?

"Tom?" she whispered for confirmation.

A vial tipped over, but didn't fall.

"I'm sorry," Antha murmured. She couldn't be with George. She couldn't live every day waking up next to him, seeing how much she had hurt him in the past. He would always be dying at her feet. "I can't."

Noon was only a few minutes away, but she waited until she heard the sound of someone apparating before she descended the steps as regally as jeans would allow. She wasn't allowed heels for dramatic affect. It was considered a weapon. She did, however, do her hair with a simple twist and pinned it with some pins she found lying on a desk - most likely Ginny's. It wasn't a ministry official. She knew that as soon as Molly answered the door. The woman was much too happy about whoever it was.

"Sit here," Arthur directed her, having her sit in the sofa that faced the window. Antha did as directed, wondering who it could possibly be.

"She's in the sitting room," Molly said, leading whoever was at the door towards the ex-Riddle. Antha hid her anticipation as she saw Andy. Antha rose immediately. She hadn't seen Andy since the day she left, desperately searching for Salazar. Guilt crushed Antha's heart at the tired expression on the woman's face.

"I'm sorry," Antha whispered, dropping her gaze. "I didn't know... I didn't know he was already out. . . He wasn't meant to die..." Antha felt the tears in her eyes and blushed lightly in shame. "He promised you and Ted would be safe."

"You should have known better than to believe him," Andy said, her tone not accusatory, but mildly upset.

"He didn't want Ted dead," Antha returned. She glanced up, biting her lip. "It was a condition... I'd stay there, and you and Ted would be unharmed... I was a fool yes, but if Ted was dead, I could leave."

"And yet you didn't. Three and a half years you spend hiding from him," Andy stressed. "All to go back in a single night. And why? Because you were scared?"

"He had Salazar," Antha stressed. "He took him from your bedroom... Yes, I was scared. I went back to him because I had to."

"Had to? You didn't have to do anything," Andy snapped. "We were your family. We cared for you, cared for Salazar. And you betray us like that-"

"I'm sorry," Antha admitted. "I really am. And you'll never forgive me, but that's okay." She sighed. "I'm sorry."

"We'll always be family, Antha. Don't make the same mistake again."

Antha bit her lip, nodding. "I'm... I'm sorry about Tonks and Lupin."

"Sit back down, Antha," Andromeda said quietly. "Close your eyes."

What? She slowly backed up, sitting down and doing as directed. She only heard the sounds of Andy moving away before she was told to open her eyes. Antha did so hesitantly.

Salazar had grown. At least, she thought he had. His pants didn't fit him very well, showing his socks. And his shoes... "I don't understand," Antha admitted as Salazar grinned at his mother. She glanced at Molly and Andromeda, standing back as Salazar stood in the center of the living room.

"They're yours. The Order will monitor your activity, visit at unannounced times... but they're yours to keep," Molly told the girl. Antha didn't want this. She didn't want to take care of them. She'd ruin them. She'd ruin their lives, their goodness... them.

"I thought we agreed," Antha said quietly, getting up once more and approaching her son. The boy didn't move towards her, but didn't back away, either. "They were to be-"

"Yours."

She hugged Salazar so tightly to her she thought she might break a few bones. He squirmed, but relaxed in her grip. "Mummy, you're crushing me."

"I know," she whispered. She buried her face into his neck, tears leaking out. Merlin, he smelled just like she remembered. How long had it been since she had seen him? Only a week? "I love you, so much. So, so, so much."

"I love you, too, Mummy." She inhaled the scent of his shampoo, before she pulled back to look at him. So much like his father. She tucked a strand of black hair back from his eyes and stared into his eyes. Just like his father.

But, no. He wouldn't become the monster his father had.

"How was Aunt Andy's?" she asked after a moment.

"Ted's not there," Salazar admitted, frowning slightly. Ted had always been his favorite of the two. Ted read to him, played with him... Andromeda was slightly older and didn't have the physical capacity to do that anymore. "But Ava and I are great. Aunt Andy's been watching us, with some girl named Hermione. And there's another baby there, Teddy! Is he our new brother?"

"No, no he's not," Antha answered. She swallowed and smoothed his hair. "I really missed you." Unwillingly, tears came to her eyes and she wiped them away as she went to hug him again.

"Mummy, where's Daddy?"

The room seemed to chill a few degrees. Antha didn't know how to answer. "He's not coming back for a very long time. He... You won't see him again."

"Oh... good. He scared me," Salazar admitted shyly.

Antha choked on a laugh, pulling back. "He scared me, too." She couldn't stop touching him. She ran her thumb along his cheek before running her fingers through his hair.

"He would hurt you and make you cry a lot," Salazar continued. "Why is he not coming back?"

She gave her son a watery smile, looking to the window for inspiration. "Oh, he just... he's always busy, remember? He could barely make it for our reading time." Salazar nodded, remembering. "Well, he had a lot of business to do at the castle. And he just got so overworked that he had to go to the hospital... And... well, at the hospital, he didn't get any better. He's on the other side of the veil, sweetheart. And he won't bother us..." Salazar frowned slightly.

"He's dead?"

Hearing him say it didn't sound so bad. She just didn't want him to react badly to it. "Yes... he's dead."

"Oh..." He furrowed his brow as he thought. "When we die, will we meet him on the other side of the veil?"

"Only if you want to meet him."

"I don't think I do," Salazar admitted.

"Then you don't have to," Antha insisted. She glanced up at footsteps and Hermione appeared, a small bundle wrapped in her arms. Ava. Antha stood hastilly, accepting the baby as Hermione passed her over.

"She slept through the apparation," Hermione said by way of greeting.

"She tends to be a heavy sleeper," Antha told the girl. She was heavier, it seemed. Maybe she truly wasn't... Antha didn't know. Her dark hair was still scalp length. Still a newborn. Her pouty pink lips were mashed together as she slept, a few fingers clenched by her ear.

She was willing to give her children up? She was willing to send herself to Azkaban, never to see them? All for what? To stop from ruining them? Molly believed she wouldn't ruin them... that had to be something.

"The twins and Lee have been getting the flat ready for them," Hermione admitted. "I've been helping. You should have everything you need." Oh, that's right. She would be living at the shop. "They'll be in the guest room."

Where would she be, then? "Okay," Antha nodded. She'd sleep on the floor if she had to. Dellia shifted and opened her mouth to let out a sigh, before it closed. Antha exhaled at the sight and shifted slightly to give her and Hermione more personal space.

Hermione stared at Antha for a long time, silence reigning the room. "Don't screw this up, Antha. It's your only chance."

Antha understood.

"The portkey leaves in ten minutes," George spoke up. "So I would start packing."

She didn't have much. Just a few clothing items and a few books. She decided to leave the books, having no need for them now.

Maybe one day she could give them to her children, when they went to Hogwarts...

The flat above the shop was exactly as it had been when she delivered George to his brother, and exactly as it had been when she had lived here in the midst of the war, too scared to go to the Burrow some nights.

"Right, you know your way around," George said awkwardly, scratching his neck. "There's the bathroom," he gestured to a half open door. "And there's a few others around-"

"I remember."

"You wanted to sleep in the spare room, so Fred put two beds in there... well, I'd better show you." He led her to the spare room, across the hall from his own, and she was surprised to see that it wasn't the guest room, but the masters...

"You switched rooms," she accused quietly.

"I figured you guys would like the space," George shrugged. Her throat felt thick, with the selfless act.

She was struck with the difference in George's actions from the Dark Lord's. Where Tom would be good to her in the hopes she'd fall in love with him, George... George made sure what he did for her was solely for her benefit. She felt something for it.

The room was cluttered, but only with furniture necessary. Two small beds sat on opposite walls, and a crib rested underneath a window, the sunlight lit upon the blankets. A place for each of them. "Andy sent over any of Salazar's clothes or toys, and Hermione helped set up the room, too..." He cleared his throat at the lack of response from her. "Um, Andy sent over your clothes, too, but she didn't have much-"

"Most of them got lost last year," she told him, stepping into the room and approaching the crib. Stuffed animals from when Zar was little were inside, in a small pile, and she clutched her daughter to her chest as she recognized a small pink baby blanket from when she was small. Narcissa had given it to her.

Peeking out the window, she could see all of Diagon Alley, or more specifically, gossipers pointing at WWW with something being passed from their mouths to the person beside them. Rumors. Whispers. She closed the curtain shut, deciding that she'd have to stay away from all windows. She didn't want to be seen... she didn't want to bring bad business to the shop.

"It's perfect," she told George, turning to face him. "Thank you."

"I try," he winked. Her gaze flitted to the slightly confused look on his face, unsure what it was for. But it was gone, and he grinned instead, gesturing for her to follow him. "I'm making dinner. Would you like take-in, or Fred's horrible attempt at spaghetti?"

She bit her lip, deciding which would be least likely to kill her. She hadn't had take-in since the Chinese food George had brought her, and before that... Merlin, not since before Bill and Fleur's wedding. And spaghetti... well, it wasn't a meal option at Malfoy Manor. She doubted the Malfoys had even heard of spaghetti - not Fred's version, at least.

"Either are fine," Antha said quietly.

"Right, take-in it is, then. Thai good?"

"You know what I like," Antha shrugged. George nodded and turned away. Antha didn't know if she should follow or not, but she set Ava down in the crib and glanced towards Salazar, digging through a drawer full of toys. They would be fine on their own, for a little while, at least. Ava would sleep just a little while longer.

Antha left the room, leaving the door open, and followed George to the sitting room, spotting Fred with a few pieces of parchment scattered around him, Lee leaning over him to point at something. The sight was familiar. Some things... well, they never changed.


	31. Chapter 30: Black and White Faces

"Some people asked about you today," George said conversationally over the dinner table. Antha glanced up, spotting the grimmace as he took a bite of Fred's hard and burnt spaghetti. Lee nodded, as if what George said was true.

"About me?" Antha asked, hoping he'd clarify.

"Oh yeah," Fred agreed brightly. "Want to see the girl that ended the war, don't they? Fancy nickname, that, but a little long. 'The-Girl-That-Ended-The-War.' Reckon that means you're as famous as Potter these days?"

Antha ignored him, chewing on the spaghetti and wincing as she thought she heard something crack. "What did they ask?"

"To see you," George shrugged. "At least fifty different people asked if I knew where you were. Of course, I said yes, but that you wanted privacy..." She bit her lip, trying to figure out why he didn't just drag her down there. "Lots of people just came to the shop to see you. Best business in months."

"My favorite one was when they asked for the girl that believed in love," Lee input, winking at Antha. "You've got a lot going for you."

Her fork dropped, her eyes begging them to tell her that Lee was wrong. She couldn't... she wasn't a hero. She was anything but. She was the wife of Tom Riddle Jr. She was... She was evil. She was her mother. "They must be mistaken... looking for Hermione or-"

"Definitely Philantha Riddle," Fred and Lee grinned.

She shook her head, her gaze dropping back to her plate. Still half eaten. Perhaps she could fake the rest of it, and instead vanish it when Fred looked away. "Just work the register," George said quietly. "For half a shift, at least?"

"No," Antha said firmly. "I don't want this... this worship, or whatever it's called. I don't want to take advantage of the attention, either, just so you get business."

"But this business is helping pay for the repairs to the rest of Diagon Alley," George said, as though tempting the devil. Oh, Merlin... He was guilting her. But how could she say no to that? How could she say no? "Besides, we got a bill today for a few dozen galleons because loiterers are frowned upon in Diagon Alley. So... if you show up, we won't have as many people blocking traffic in the streets."

"I... I don't know, George," Antha hesitated. She glanced at Zar and Ava, both quiet and resting... Salazar had exhausted himself by running around the flat pretending he was in a World Cup match. It hadn't helped matters when Draco had come over to tell her news with his mother - she was getting a full pardon for any actions she may have done in the war. Draco had chased him all around the flat while the others were downstairs. Antha didn't even know if George knew he came over... not that it mattered. Draco wasn't going to ruin anything.

There wasn't much to ruin.

"For an hour," she said after a moment. "And that's all. I won't do it again, and it's just to keep you from being fined."

"Yes!" George cheered, wincing when Ava jolted at the cry and began to wake. "Oh, sorry," he apologized, as Antha stood and walked over to the once sleeping child, now deciding to use her lungs to get her discomfort across.

It was a good escape from the spaghetti. "If you'll excuse me," Antha murmured, ducking into her new bedroom and gently shutting the door behind her. As soon as it was shut, she cast a silencing charm on her daughter and placed her in the crib, tucking her into the blankets and making sure a warding charm was placed between the crib and the window. She didn't trust such a vulnerabilty.

Quietly, she sat down on her bed, taking a deep breath at this feeling of emotions welling in her throat. She didn't know what it meant, but it was... well, it was something to do with facing the people tomorrow. Apprehension, or fear? She didn't know.

She wasn't Antha.

She was... she was nothing.

"Antha?"

She glanced up sharply to see George in the doorway, biting his lip concerned. She stiffened her features, regarding him impassively, as though he was going to judge her. Would he? "Yes?"

"Everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" she asked defensively, standing and moving towards the wardrobe, pulling out a selection of clothing for the next day, and another for Salazar to wear tomorrow, too.

"You just seem... quiet. You've never been so quiet. What happened to witty Antha? To the Antha that would dig a hole deeper for herself with all of the comments she made?"

"I've learned, George, that those comments do not bring good things," Antha said stiffly, digging around for something she could wear to bed. She had, lately, been wearing her daily clothing as pajamas. "Being sarcastic and witty will not bring me far. However, being observant and quiet, only saying things when they mean something... it is a better use of my time."

"Who are you?" George whispered. He stepped into the room, touching her arm, making her freeze. "Antha... you've never held your tongue... don't start now."

"I've started a long time ago."

He sighed, dropping his hand. "I wish it was different... I wish you were normal again."

"I'll never be normal. War changes people, George... It's changed you."

"How?"

"You're more serious... not everything is a joke anymore. Because you've finally learned that the world isn't a funny place. It's dark and it's unfair and it's cruel." Antha slid the drawer of the wardrobe closed, clutching a pair of cotton shorts and a t-shirt. She faced him, seeing the lost expression on his face. "And I'm sorry you've only just now seen it."

He opened his mouth to retort, but obviously thought better of it, because his shoulders dropped and he exited the room, shutting her bedroom door with a sharp click. It was one way to get rid of someone.

But she went to bed with the image of George's face in her mind, and the face of a man that had caused all of the damage to her - her ex-husband.

She awoke before the sun rose, before the twins rose, and before the Prophet was even being written. Realizing this, she just laid there for a moment, staring at her ceiling. Today would be her first appearance anywhere since the war had ended. Today would mark the day she exploited her newfound fame for the twin's riches.

She wasn't looking forward to it. Her mind raced with a million different diseases she could pretend to have, or give herself, by the times the twins awoke. Perhaps dragon pox... nasty, left a lot of scars, but effective.

Also, extremely contagious and she didn't want to give it to Ava or Zar.

It was deadly to young children.

Perhaps the Muggle flu-

Her door opened, causing her to sit up so fast, her head spun. "Morning!" George said brightly. "Ready?"

"What are you doing up so early?" she questioned suspiciously.

"Wanted to make sure you didn't try to back out," he grinned. "Come on, you can help me set up the shop, since you don't have anything else planned."

"Wait-"

But he was already gone, excited for whatever the day had planned. She wished she had thought of the Dragon Pox idea sooner. Contagion be damned. Exhaling and groaning, she decided she'd follow. What was the worst that could happen?

But standing behind the register, staring at the doors to the shop, she saw the crowds. George had squeezed his way out, telling them that she'd only be there for an hour and not to overwhelm her. She knew the advice was falling on deaf ears. Antha was who they wanted to see... Looking out the other windows, she could see tents, blankets, etc rolled out on the streets, that people had camped in overnight. Why? Why did they want to see her so bad?

As soon as George unleashed them, she saw the overwhelmingly large crowd of people rushing for the counter. Prophet reporters. Parents. Children. School mates. The presence of Lee Jordan, standing just a bit beside her, at the other register, was comforting, as he already whispered to her that he'd intervene if they got too rowdy.

"Philantha! Can I get your autograph!" someone, or rather, multiple someones, were shouting. "Philantha! What was it like being married to the Dark Lord?" Bloody hell, it was like she was a commodity. She was the only source of information for the Dark Lord's private life. Not even the children had that much knowledge of it. Nor would they remember much as they got older. "Can you agree to an interview with me?" Pictures were flashing, bulbs going off everywhere.

Bloody hell. She felt like she was thrown back in her wedding. And everything she said would be broadcasted on the radio or tabloids.

She opened her mouth and they all immediately shushed. "One a time, one question or one request each, and then you either carry-on with shopping or exit the premisis. So I suggest you form a line, or I will be apparating away and no one gets anything. No autographs or news stories."

It was amusing, watching them shove and prod one another to get in line and nearly five minutes followed before they got in line. And then whatever they wanted commenced. If it was a question, they asked.

"How did the Dark Lord treat you?"

"My private life is private," she stated firmly. "Be it good or bad, I will not discuss it with the media. I respect myself far too much for that."

They tried to ask more questiosn, when they realized their question wouldn't get an answer, but she waved them away. Autographs were difficult. She wasn't sure if they wanted Philantha Riddle or Philantha Lestrange. So she signed Riddle. It wasn't as if she was ashamed of the name. It wasn't like the Riddle name was horrifying. If her children were to bear the name, then so was she.

An elderly woman was next in line, and she didn't have a piece of paper, or any media on her. She looked... well, concerned. "I just have one question, dear, and it's for those children you've taken under your wing... I understand that Salazar is your parent's child, and Avazkadellia is your father's... Will they keep the Riddle name or do you plan on changing it to their birthright... Lestrange?" It was a unique question, as none of the reporters had thought to ask about her children. They were much too concerned with her.

Antha's lips twitched into a partial smile. "They will stay Riddle to keep things easier on them. Though they may receive ridicule, I would rather them be associated with the Muggle world moreso than the Death Eater Pureblood supremist one of the Lestrange name... Riddle may be... well, we all know who Tom was... but the idea of the Riddle name is much cleaner than Lestrange. My parents were horrible people, and I don't want my mother or father to taint their names."

"Thank you," the woman said gently. She took Antha's hand, which surprised the young woman, and held it firmly. "I wish your children the best possible future... and I'm terribly sorry for the loss of your blood child."

Antha swallowed, the woman's sincerity making her feel very emotional herself. "Thank you... That means a lot."

"I really hope you're not doing this for the publicity."

"The shop is being fined for loiterers... and I really don't want the fining to continue," Antha explained. "Otherwise there might be Auror action and I wouldn't want that."

"You're a celebrity now."

She walked away, not bothering to look back, and Antha was faced with a pushy reporter, next, making the good feeling immediately evaporate.

"It's been an hour," Lee told her suddenly, ringing up the fiftieth customer since opening. "I'm sorry, sir, but you're out of luck. She's not taking any more questions."

Antha nearly exhaled in relief. "Thank you for trying, though," Antha input before she stepped back from the counter, Verity swooping in to take over the register. Antha apparated abruptly, ignoring the shouts of the reporter, claiming he was there first thing this morning if it wasn't for the stupid line, and landed in the living room of the flat above. Where there was silence.

All she wanted to do now was relax.


	32. Chapter 31: Rewriting History

The opening of the apartment door made her jump from her sleep, her wand gripped as she held the yelp in her throat. It was evening outside and Salazar and Ava were quiet. George was grinning widely, laughing boisterously with Lee, Verity, and Fred.

"Best day in our entire career!" George was insisting, grabbing his brother roughly around the neck. "Bloody hell, maybe even our lives!"

How long had she been asleep for? She had come upstairs, and ... did the kids eat? She gasped, falling off the couch in her effort to stand, and rushed towards where Salazar was sitting with a puzzle laid out in front of him. "I'm so sorry," Antha rushed out. "I fell asleep. Did you eat lunch?"

"I made sandwiches," Salazar grinned. "You were tired, I didn't want to wake you. There was some milk in the fridge, but I don't think Ava liked it that much." He finished with a frown, his attention turning back to the puzzle as he tried to fit in a few pieces.

"I'm so sorry," Antha repeated, running her hand through her hair. She was a horrible mother. She didn't even feed her own children. "It won't happen again. I swear to you... I would never forget to feed you-"

"I know, Mummy," Salazar said brightly. "You were tired. You didn't even wake up when Ava started crying." It just made her feel worse. She shouldn't have...

"When was the last time you got a proper sleep, anyway?" George asked suddenly. She glanced up, swallowing back the tears in her eyes. The barriers were weakening again. Antha didn't know. She hadn't slept well in ... in days. And it was making her weak. Weak and vulnerable. It wasn't safe, she couldn't be safe yet.

"I don't know," she replied honestly, quietly. Salazar turned back to the puzzle he was doing and George offered a hand to help her to her feet.

"Why don't you go lay down-"

"I'm fine," Antha insisted. George tried to argue, but she straightened up, setting her gaze so that it was firm, so that her face was as expressionless as before. "I'm fine," she repeated.

She was anything but. She could feel the walls breaking, and she knew she needed to strengthen them. If they fell gently, that was another matter, but... they couldn't break. It would flood her, damage her... damage her more than she already was. So she sat in front of the mirror as Verity made them a nice meal and stared at her expressionless mask, the face of a murderer. And she made sure her mind was so solidly locked away that nothing would ever penetrate.

It was how George found her, sitting at the foot of her bed, staring into the mirror.

"You won't turn into a Metamorphagus overnight, you know," George quipped from the door. Antha didn't acknowledge it, instead tilting her cheek into the light, reading the scar on her cheek. "You've been quiet all night."

"I've been quiet since I've been back," Antha returned evenly. "Tonight is no different."

"Well, I know, but you... you've been quieter than usual." She had? She hadn't noticed. "What happened tonight?"

"I let my guard dropped, and it was unacceptable. I've ensured it won't happen again."

"By forgoing sleep all together?" George pressed.

Antha glanced towards where Avazkadellia was resting and then to Salazar, asleep as well. He had passed out as soon as he finished the puzzle following dinner. "If that's what it takes-"

"They're safe here," George interrupted. "You know that. No one's getting in here. This is probably the safest place for them-"

"It matters not," Antha returned. "I let my guard drop and it could have put them in danger, and I won't have that happen again."

"You're human, too."

Was she? She didn't know anymore. She didn't feel human. She felt... other. Like, a shell, but... different. Like she was made of stone, an unpliable material. Unyielding. Inflexible. A statue.

"I suppose," she murmured finally. She set the mirror down, glancing towards him. "Is there something you needed?"

"To talk, I guess," he muttered. "I just want to talk to you, but every time I try, you do this. Turn all ... stoic."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. She glanced at the children before approaching. "What do you want to talk about?"

"You." She winced slightly, but nodded. They moved into the hall, and she closed the door mostly, but left it open a crack in case Ava woke. "Can we?"

"Go for it," she said softly. "You've already seen everything I wanted to hide."

"Did you truly love him?" George questioned. "Honestly." Antha didn't hesitate. She gave a short nod, watching as George's jaw clicked at the answer. "Do you love me?" he followed up.

"I think so," Antha answered. "I haven't felt anything resembling it... but I think so. All those memories are blocked behind a thousand shields... all those feelings... What I feel right now... it's as if you gave me a delirium potion. I am ... essentially feeling only a small fraction of any emotion. It prevented emotional outbursts, anything that couldn't be-"

"You would often go on rants with him."

"In the beginning," Antha responded. "But they didn't last forever."

"He was... different with you... In his memories, you weren't the only one different... He really did care for you."

"As much as a man that didn't know what love is, yes, I suppose so," Antha agreed. "He had an odd way of showing it, but he tried his best to show it how he could."

George seemed to absorb that, hesitating. "Can you learn to love me again?"

She would try, but she couldn't promise that, because she didn't know... she didn't know if she could. "I can try, but that's... that's all I can promise. I don't know if I'll ever get that part of me back, George... it's... it's pretty much so gone, that-" She swallowed, frowning. "But I'm going to try because... because I remember some parts and... and I really liked that feeling."

The news seemed to relieve him. "I was so sure... Worried, that what you told me at the Burrow... I didn't want it to be true."

"I know... You're different, from him... you know," Antha said quietly. "Your actions. I've noticed it. You're so... conscious about my comfort. You don't do things that will make me uncomfortable - or that you think will. Except for the register thing this morning, but... you were right, I needed to do that..." She ran a hand through her hair, chewing on her lip. "You look out for me in a way... in a way I haven't been looked after in... in months... and I appreciate it."

He gave her a warm smile, one that she missed. "Well, of course I do. If I didn't, I'd be a pretty awful bloke, wouldn't I?"

"Pretty awful," she agreed quietly, a small smile appearing.

"See? That's what I'm looking for. That smile." She rolled her eyes, glancing towards the bedroom. "Why do you try to hide it?"

"I don't know," Antha admitted quietly. "I'll work on it... for you... but, I can't make any promises."

"I just want you to be happy," George murmured. "Are you happy?"

"Of course I am," Antha promised. "Happier than I've been in... in ages."

He seemed happy with this response, and Antha marveled how such little questions, such little responses, could make a world of difference to him. She wished it were that easy for her. She wished she could be normal again... and she wondered what she could do to get rid of the memories... of her time in the Dark Lord's care, to ... to return to who she was before, while she was in school. Maybe she should contact Severus... he would give her tips... but maybe obliviation was the best route, permanent memory extraction so that the memories weren't in her head, but they still existed... but that was dangerous, if they fell into the wrong hands... she didn't know.

"You should get some sleep... you probably need it." She did. She really wanted to sleep. "Goodnight, Antha."

He turned towards his bedroom, the small guest room... He had given up the master for her. "Goodnight... George." His bedroom door clicked shut behind him and she stared at the door a moment before she turned and headed back to her room, slipping into the bed and taking a small breath of comfort. She was happy... because everything was alright.

She had to buy groceries. She knew, eventually, she'd have to leave the flat sometime, but... she didn't want it to be this soon. She clutched the list tightly, knowing that it would be a quick run - only a few things they needed for dinner that night, and Angelina would do the rest of the shopping tomorrow, so she didn't have to.

She needed to get out, though. She had seen enough of the flat in the last week to last her a life time. She needed fresh air. She just... didn't want to go out in public. She didn't need that publicity. But... she was a Gryffindor - or rather, she was, so... she could do this stuff. It was in the core of her being, somewhere... in her.

She had to do this. It was more of proving it to herself than anything. And... she had sort of volunteered. She didn't do anything all day except sit in the flat and read the Prophet, or help Salazar with his letters.

George stopped her just as she was about to leave, passing an object to her, her wand. "Just in case you might need it." She hesitated, but agreed. If someone were to attack, she had to be able to defend herself. "How long do you think it will take? Just in case something happens, you know?"

"Do you think something will happen?" she inquired, glancing up to meet his eyes.

"Well... no, but... it's not too safe to be prepared-"

"Two minutes to walk there, approxomately twenty minutes to get the items, assuming I'm desperately lost inside of the market, roughtly a minute to pay... I'd say thirty minutes total." She smirked as he nodded. "Would you like to put a tracker on me too? Potentially hold my hand and guide me?"

He chuckled. "Witty Antha. It's back." Was it? She just knew that he made it entirely too easy for her to tease him... Maybe it was on purpose? But it felt good, to be able to ... to be who she was again, if only briefly. It felt familiar.

"I won't be gone long," Antha said carefully, sticking her wand into her jeans pocket. Muggle clothing. Merlin, she loved it. But... and she never felt as though she'd ever say it, she missed her old dresses. Not the slutty ones, but the new ones. They had made her feel... elegant.

The walk was quick, and she noticed that there was very minimal staring. She blended in, for the most part. Or perhaps she was deluding herself. She stood at the storefront, aware of many people watching her. She could see Weasley Wizard Wheezes just down the road. It was a comfort. She had never been so anxious about being in public before.

What the media said was one thing, but she truly didn't want to know what the public actually thought of her. It was as Tom had said - the truth was something she didn't want to find out. So, sucking in a deep breath, she pushed open the doors to the grocers and selected a basket for the things. There weren't many she needed to buy, just some meat items, a few vegetables. In and out. She could do in and out.

She was the only one in the store. The only shopper. The shopkeeper was standing behind the counter, reading the Daily Prophet. He didn't seem to notice her arrival. Good. She carefully began to grab the items on the list, quickly referring to it when there were a few options presented to her. But, she did her best. She knew what they liked, afterall.

"'ello, lovely," a gruff voice spoke up behind her. Antha tensed, her fingers tightening on the basket she clutched, calculating just how long it would take for her to grab her wand and kill the man. But the thought made her stop short. She wasn't... she couldn't kill people, not anymore. "Can I help ya?"

She straightened, grabbing a few potatoes from the bin and setting them in her basket carefully. "I can manage, thank you." She turned, glancing at the man. The shopkeeper. That was how he had gotten so close without alerting her... she was letting her senses drop. She was making herself vulnerable.

"Miss Riddle," he grinned, his teeth disgusting, crooked, and so... gross she took a step back, hoping to distance herself from him. "Pleasure."

"It's just Lestrange," Antha said quietly. She eyed the door behind him. She could perhaps make it out, but... it would involve knocking him out of the way.

"Of course! I'm sorry fer the slip o' tha tongue, Miss Lestrange. Do ya need ta find anyfin' special?" The way he leered at her, it made her feel sick, but... she couldn't use her wand. She was only given it just in case, she couldn't.. she couldn't blow it. "I'd imagine someone such as yerself doesn't have a wand ta keep herself properly defended, huh, lass? Lots o' nasty stuff in tha papers-"

She gave him a polite smile, her mind working in overdrive. She had skills - she had trained in how to do this properly, on how to get away before any damage was done. She was one of Tom's best. She could do this. "Do you believe everything you read?"

He seemed to like her response, stepping closer. She stepped back, nearly running into the rack full of apples. "Why don't ya tell me, beautiful?" Beautiful. She snorted. She was anything but. Her mother had made sure of that, and this man was futhering her point. She took a step, to move away from him, towards the register, where she'd set the basket down and then go back to the shop, telling George she was going to venture to Muggle London instead for groceries, but he grabbed her arm, his grip much tighter than she expected. "I'm talking ta ya, and it's rude not ta talk back-"

"You want me to talk back?" Antha questioned, her voice hard. "I'll talk back. Kindly, removed your hand from my person. Or I will be forced to get my wand out and I assure you, if that does happen, I can't say that a PTSD episode can be stopped, because once I'm on a roll, it's very hard to get-"

"Just 'cause Ya-Know-Who had ya fer a whore doesn't mean yer so tough," he growled. "Ya can't weigh, what? More than a hundred pounds soppin' wet?" His grin was feral, then, and it reminded her of Fenrir Greyback. "I like it when yer wet-"

"Let go of me," Antha snapped, jerking away from him, dropping the basket. A few apples fell as the basket hit them, but Antha couldn't find it in herself to care. She was too busy trying not to think of Tom... trying not to think of him when he would grab her, when he would try to rape her.

The door opened suddenly, but Antha didn't stop glaring at the man holding her as he grinned and grabbed her hip, trying to pull her body closer. Antha squirmed, trying to slip between two displays.

"Oi, let her go, mate," an unfamiliar voice spoke up.

"Look at her, she's not resisting, are ya, lovely?"

She snorted yet again, pulling from his grip, stumbling when he let her take a few steps back. She still didn't pull out her wand. She couldn't until it was absolutely necessary. She didn't want to break her relationship with the public. They were the ones not demanding she be separated from her children... and now that she was back with her children, she... she didn't want to be separated again. It was purely selfish, but... it was why she couldn't respond as she normally would. She absolutely couldn't.

"Alright, there, lass?" Antha glanced towards the man that had entered the shop, a list in his own hand - a customer, then. He was familiar looking, though Antha was sure they had never met before.

"Fine," Antha said quietly, nodding shortly. She cleared her throat, glancing towards the shopkeeper as she continued. "Thank you."

"Nathaniel Malkin." Bloody hell... that was why he was familiar. He couldn't have been older than her by much, but... but he had to know who she was. Everyone seemed to. "Is this guy bothering you-?"

"I was just leaving," Antha said shortly. "I'll buy groceries in Muggle London, if I can't here." She picked up her crumpled list from the ground and took a step towards the door. The Malkin boy stepped out of her way and he hesitated.

"You sure you don't want me to walk you somewhere or anything?"

"No... I... I'll be going to where I'm staying, it's just up the road... thank you, though." She swallowed, keeping her eyes lowered, praying he wouldn't recognize her. Praying he wouldn't try the same thing. She was pathetic, weak... she couldn't defend herself and it was pathetic.

It reminded her of just how pathetic she had been in the Dark Lord's care, how weak she had been... Merlin, she didn't remember being that weak. And it made her feel... not like the shell and mask she had been presenting herself as. She felt... human.


	33. Chapt 32: The Story of Bricyt Snape

She walked through the doors of Weasley Wizard Wheezes to find George looking worried and discussing something deeply with... Nathaniel Malkin. She shut the door behind her, glad it was closed for the lunch hour, and eyed the group worriedly as she tried to pass, discreetly.

"Antha-" She closed her eyes, letting out a small sigh. Here it came. "What happened?"

She turned, looking between the both of them. "I was trying to buy food, but the shopkeeper decided that I might taste good." She glanced between them. "It's been handled. It's fine. I'm fine. Let's drop it."

"I... er, thought they should know-"

"And they didn't need to," Antha interrupted Nathaniel. "But thank you for getting there when you did... or things might have gotten a little ugly." She set down a handful of bags, procuring her wand from her person and giving it to George. "I should put these away before they go bad-"

"I should leave," Nathaniel said suddenly. "Uh, right." He scurried away and Antha glared after his retreating form before grabbing the bags at her feet and moving towards the stairs.

"Antha-"

"I could have ran," Antha said quietly. "I could have... have done something really horrible and landed myself in Azkaban, for good... Because I deserve to be there. I could left - hidden in the countryside, and ... and dealt with myself... I could have done all these things-"

"But you didn't," George said quietly.

She swallowed. She knew that. She didn't, but... "But I thought about it. Each one was tempting..." She started to climb the stairs again and he followed, taking a few bags from her and opening the flat door.

"The Prophet's heard... Why didn't you just use your wand?"

She set the grocery bags on the counter, noting how the flat seemed to be entirely empty - save for Ava sleeping in a small bassinet in the living room. Lee and Fred must have taken Zar out for ice cream. "I thought about it, too... But then... I wondered what would happen, if I did... what would happen if ... if he told everyone I attacked him? Would... would people start protesting outside of your shop? Would they ... demand I go to Azkaban? I didn't know..."

"You have bruises on your arm." She glanced down, grabbing some cereals and a bag of rice to put in the cupboard. So she did.

"He reminded me of Tom," she said quietly, ignoring the comment on the bruises. "Of... how when we first got there, you and me, with that... idiotic idea... he reminded me of the man that would grab me and... for a second, I was back there... and ... I was scared." She turned to face him, noting how he was putting the meats into the ice box, to stay cool. He glanced up at her admission, surprised. "It wasn't like how I was, when I woke and ... and I got scared for the fact that I hadn't fed the kids... it was different... this was... it was a pure emotion. And I haven't felt it since... since my first few days back there-"

"Your shields are ... weakening?"

"I think so," Antha admitted. "But... but if they collapse, the emotional backlash... the grief and the anger and ... and everything would hit me all at once. And... I'd go insane... I made you a promise, when we were at Malfoy Manor, do you remember? If... if Tom couldn't heal you-"

"I wanted you to kill me." She nodded, tears in her eyes as she grabbed a few more things, to distract herself. "You want the same... if your shield break and you get ... emotional, or... or turn like your mother-"

"You have to do something to stop me," Antha said firmly, shutting the cupboard door. "I can turn violent, George. I might kill someone... the kids, you... Fred, Verity... And I don't want that to happen... so if I become a danger, you have to put me down... I don't need a wand to hurt someone... Stun me, kill me, send me to Azkaban. I don't care, but I can't be a danger to you or anyone, alright?"

"I'm not going to kill you-"

"If it comes to that-"

"We aren't in war, Antha. Those things just don't happen anymore. A death now, isn't treated like a war victim. It's a full on crime in its own right... A death is more severe now-"

"It's still a life," Antha countered. "It doesn't matter the situation, it's the same price... If I try to kill you... or Ava, or Zar..." She swallowed. "Don't let me. Do whatever it takes. Because I won't be myself anymore."

That evening, Salazar wanted to have a slumber party in the living room, to make a fort out of blankets and cushions. Fred and George were immediately on board with the idea, and Antha retired to her bedroom, so that she could deal with Ava while Salazar slept. She laid on her bed, a sigh leaving her as she turned on her side, facing the crib. And then she was lost in her mind, in her dreams, in her nightmares.

_The hall was dark. The shivering body Antha had pressed tightly against her was whimpering... it made Antha clutch her even tighter. She needed to be a means of comfort... especially now. This girl... this little girl... Antha hated to think anything bad would happen to her._

_"Punish her."_

_"No," Antha said strongly. "She's just a little girl... Please, she doesn't deserve this. She's loyal."_

_"Punish her or I will make you."_

_"No," Antha repeated. Her arms clutched the little girl tighter, hunching her body over as though she could protect her._

_"Very well." Suddenly the girl was wretched away and Antha made to grasp her._

_"Bricyt!"_

_"Antha!" the seven year old screamed. Antha tried once more to grab her, but she was thrown backwards, landing on the marble flooring with a groan. Merlin, it hurt to breathe. "Antha! Stop! Please!"_

_"You'll be alright, Bricyt," Antha promised, struggling to her feet. But just as Antha had managed to stand, she staggered as another force ran into her. But this time she didn't fall. Something was there, catching her. Driving her. The imperious curse. She could feel it settling in her mind, making her stand straight. "Please, don't make me do this."_

_"You'll never learn."_

_"I will... please, she's just a little girl-"_

_"Torture her."_

_Antha's wand flicked towards the young girl and by the time she even tried to fight it, screams echoed in the Drawing Room, making her own soul hurt. The little girl writhed on the floor, jerked in unhealthy ways, and red welts appeared on her skin from where her body tried to exert some sort of outward sign of the torture._

_And suddenly, the spell was released and the girl whimpered, sobbing as she didn't move from the floor._

_"Do you know, girl, not to sympathize?" the Dark Lord spat._

_"I'm sorry!" she sobbed, curling in on herself and flinching at the voice._

_"Tend to her, Antha." Antha was immediately released and she knelt beside the small, beautiful girl, tucking her close and holding her, whispering apologies. The girl was shivvering, not from the cold, but from fear and her injuries. Her limbs were still quaking._

_She gripped Antha tightly as she cried, and Antha ran her hand through the girl's hair, calming her, comforting her._

_"Antha?" It was the Dark Lord's voice, his lip curled menacingly. "Kill her."_

_"No," Antha said strongly. "She's loyal. She's just a little girl."_

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

_"No!" Antha shouted and she tried to pull the girl out of the way._

She awoke gasping, George gripping her shoulders as he tried to wake her. "Antha?" She pulled from his grasp, tumbling out of the bed and she gagged, almost dry heaving, as she saw the little girl in her mind. She sobbed so suddenly that it hurt her throat, and her hands dug into the wood, gripping it as though it was anchoring her. "Antha...?" And suddenly he was knelt beside her, pulling her into his arms. Her fingers lost purchase on the floor, and she instead gripped the front of his shirt, taking comfort in his warmth, in heartbreak, his chest.

"It's okay," he promised to her softly. "It's over... You're safe."

But Bricyt wasn't... The Snape daughter had... had died that day, and Antha could have stopped it. She could have ... have stopped telling her stories.

George waited until her sobs died down, and her grip on his shirt loosened. "You're alright," he murmured into her hair. Antha knew she was. She was here, she was safe... And Salazar was here, and Ava. They were all safe.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he questioned once she released him, sitting back so that she was on the floor, her legs tucked close to her and her gaze falling to the rug that nestled across from them, under Ava's crib.

"Not really," she admitted. "How did you know?"

"You were screaming... Verity took Ava..." Oh. "I thought you were being murdered."

"No... No, I'm fine," Antha said softly. "There was a little girl... I was sixteen, fifteen? That summer, after he was back... And her name was Bricyt... Bricyt Snape. She was Severus's daughter, a love child with Alecto Carrow. I was her godmother. Severus was always fond of me, always put his trust in me. And Alecto... she wasn't as fond, but she trusted his judgement." She swallowed. "I tainted her, ruined her-"

"Antha-"

"I told her stories of Hogwarts, of Gryffindor, of all of the good things in the world. And by the time she was six, it was me she listened to. It was me she loved more than her own mother. My visits to the Manor were always warm to her, she always would wait by the Floo for me, knowing when I would come - sometimes she'd wait all day if I ran late... and that summer, the Dark Lord found out. I don't know how, maybe Alecto told him. She was always a bit spiteful of me..." She sucked in a breath. "He forced me to torture her and she screamed and... and screamed."

"You don't have to keep going, if you don't want to," George said softly.

"And when it was all over, I was told to tend to her, so I picked her up in my arms and just held her, and held her so tighlty, to stop her shaking, and I kept apologizing. I kept pleading with her to forgive me. And... and he told me to kill her."

"She wasn't on your kill list."

Antha shook her head, her tears gathering in her eyes. "No... I refused. I couldn't... I was so young, she was so innocent. I loved her. It was before everything. Before I was Marked, before Salazar... It was right after I had just met the Dark Lord... and I couldn't hurt her anymore. I would have never hurt her willingly... and he said the curse and I couldn't move her out of the way. I was holding her, and I couldn't move her." She let out a shakey breath. "She died... in my arms. This little girl I had sworn to care for and protect... I had ruined her and she couldn't ever be fixed."

"It wasn't your fault," George insisted. "She was a girl, and you kept her from the Dark Side. You didn't ruin her. You saved her from becoming something... like Carrow. I mean, the woman pretty much relished punishment." She knew that. "If anything, it's that maniac's fault. He was a horrible person-"

"Don't tell me what he was," Antha snapped. "We all know. I know. He was heartless and he was cold and he was cruel. But he was also kind, and considerate, and a bit demented. Obsessed, really. I don't need to be told who he was. I know."

"You're right," George winced. "I'm sorry... I forgot."

"Forgot?" she echoed softly. "How can you forget? It's all you no doubt think about, that anyone thinks about. I'm the traitor. I'm the girl that ruined all the good things she had so that she could save her own hide. I lived with him for five weeks, ten total, and I lived every moment with him watching. . . You don't forget that. You know it. You think about it every time you look at me."

"I think about how much you've been through," George corrected. "How much you're still going through. What you saw that makes you look so dead inside. What you're not seeing... That's what I think about every time I look at you. I'm worried about you. Everyone is. I have half a mind to call in the Greasy Bat himself to help you."

"He can't help," she said quietly. "Not really. He might know, but this is something I need to work through myself."

"Yeah, okay," he agreed, though it didn't sound very committed. "Do you want to go back to sleep?"

"What time is it?" she asked carefully.

"Almost two in the morning."

"Then, yes," she admitted. She pulled herself off of the floor and George hastilly stood, his hand held out to her. "I... Can you stay with me?" Her voice was suddenly so small that George frowned. "Just until I fall asleep," she continued, as if she was a small child. But she didn't want to think of... of Bricyt again. She didn't want to experience those memories. She couldn't. "I ... That's all."

"Sure," he said quietly. She gave a brief, almost twitch of a smile, and settled onto her bed, not taking his hand. She sat there for a moment, taking a few breaths to calm herself. "Do you... do you need your wand for your shields? You said earlier, that if they broke-"

"I... I shouldn't," she admitted. "But... but it might be a good idea."

He nodded quickly and left the room, only to return with her wand a second later, and he shut her bedroom door, to give them privacy. Once it was in her hand, she reached for the picture frame on the bedside table. One of them in school, and she stared at it, at her reflection, and began the shields. And when she was finished, she straightened, letting out a small breath.

She glanced at George suddenly, surprised when he sat on the bed beside her. "What are you doing in here? Where's Ava?"

He blinked. "You... had a nightmare," he spoke slowly. "Verity has Ava and you just asked me to stay with you until you fell asleep... you don't remember this?"

She frowned slightly, glancing at the picture frame and wand in her hands. "You let me shield, didn't you?"

"You chose to, actually. I just asked."

She bit her lip. "What did I dream about?" It worried her, that she couldn't remember. Did she shield too strongly? Did she block something out? Something she shouldn't have?

"The Snape girl... Bricyt."

"Oh..." She frowned slightly. "Who was she?"

"Should I... tell Snape? That you don't remember? Is this normal?"

"Sometimes it's a side effect," Antha answered quietly. "It's probably nothing. The shields are always stronger in the first few hours, and they will become the same intensity as they were before I recast them." She glanced at him suddenly. "I didn't know Severus had a daughter."

"Uh, yeah, apparently. She was your goddaughter."

She hesitated, before passing him her wand and setting the photo down. "Oh... that's... weird. Why would anyone trust me to be their child's godmother?"

"Because you're a lion." She gave a ghost of a smile before agreeing. She was a lion, before she had turned into this. "Do you want to go back to sleep?"

"I want Ava," Antha said in return, her voice almost firm. Yes, she wanted Ava. And wanted to know where exactly Ava was. She didn't trust Verity. Verity was always a bit eccentric. And had so much candor that Antha was always wary around her. "Now."

"Yeah, alright. I'll go get her." George rose off of her bed, and she watched him disappear out the door. Bricyt. It was like a whisper in her mind, echoing. How could she possibly be forget about a goddaughter? Shields or not, she knew that wasn't normal.

The shields had never been so strong before, had never blocked so much.

She dropped her wand like it burned. The magic was dangerous, it was going to make her lost her mind. Maybe she already had. She could barely remember moving here a few days ago - to 93 Diagon Alley. But she knew that the black spots in her mind were days that she had lost. The black spots were lost - possibly never able to be recovered.

How could her children have a mother that couldn't remember the last four days? And furthermore, days in their lives she should remember? How could that possibly be safe for them? She couldn't stay in the shop forever. She could mooch off of them forever. She had to leave eventually.

But she could trust herself to leave until her shields were gone. And that meant she could function normally, be what they needed. But it would take a long time. Maybe months. Months that she couldn't have.

And no more shields. She would have to slowly wean off of them. Let the unwanted memories come back to her. She felt George's presence before she heard him. Glancing towards the door, he was standing there, holding Ava carefully in his arms, as if he would break her. Antha was calmed by the site almost immediately. Ava.

George handed her to her mother, and Antha felt her tense shoulders relax slightly. "Thank you."

"She fell asleep, Ver said, a few minutes ago." Antha nodded in thanks. "Do you, uh... need anything? Water?"

His concern touched her. "No. I'll be alright. I ate a few hours ago... correct? It's... it's just after midnight, right?"

"Yeah," George agreed immediately. "Yeah, we had dinner and everything. Don't worry about that. We aren't starving you-"

"I didn't meant to say it like that," Antha insisted urgently, her eyes widening in alarm. "I know you would never-"

"Relax," George smiled. Why was he smiling? It set her on edge. "I was just joking. You ate and yes, it's a bit after midnight."

"Good." She didn't know why it was good, but it seemed to be. "I'm sorry I seemed to have woken you." She stood from the bed, carefully placing Ava down into the crib and then looking through the window, to the empty street below. Some lights were lit up across the alleyway, the cobblestone street shining brilliantly.

"I'll... uh leave you to sleep, then." She just nodded, listening to him leave.

She couldn't remember ever seeing Diagon Alley so peaceful. So quiet.

As she watched, a light flickered and a figure's shadow began to form. Her breath left her in sharp bursts, as the figure stopped and she swore it stared up at her. As if someone was waiting for her. Watching her.

She was being watched.

By who? The only immediate group she could think of that wanted her dead was the Death Eaters for her treachory. And the public that didn't trust her actions. But mostly the Death Eaters - only the Death Eaters would really make plans to assassinate her.

She moved from the window, and closed the curatins, before moving the crib, closer to her bed. She didn't trust the window. She didn't trust anything. She warded the wall, the entire wall. She was going to take no chances.

No one was going to take her children away from her, if it came down to it. No one would harm them, or harm the Weasleys.

Antha needed to lose her shileds. She needed to remember most of her training, her skills that she had learned through the Death Eaters. She couldn't protect them properly unless she could remember. She almost wished she could take the shields off of herself. But no... That would be stupid. That would cause such a strong reaction-

She was beginning to repeat herself.

"My name is Philantha Riddle. I married the Dark Lord. I commited War Crimes. I surrendered the Dark Lord's forces. I was pardoned. My children, Salazar and Avazkadellia love me, and I love them," she murmured to herself, knocking over a few things as she dug through her bedside drawer for some parchment and ink. She began to write it, as she repeated it once more. "My name is Philantha Riddle. I married the Dark Lord. I commited War Crimes. I surrenedered the Dark Lord's forces. I was pardoned. My children, Salazar and Avazkadellia love me, and I love them."

Once it was written, she whispered them to herself, well into the night, until the sun began to rise and the world became active again. She had a mission. She needed to protect her children. She needed to protect everyone.

A gold embroidered book slammed on the table in front of her, causing her to gasp and shoot out of her seat. George shot a glare at his twin, but Fred was just standing there, glancing towards the book. "Well, you going to look at it?"

She tried to calm her heartbeat, but it was beating much too fast. Glancing down to the book, she found it to be A History of Magic. "Why?"

"This is the advanced copy. Got it in the mail today. Addressed to you." She glanced up, surprised, before reaching for it. "Page four-hundred and ninety-three." She withdrew her hands hesitantly.

"What does it talk about?"

"Just read it!" Fred insisted. She glanced to George, caution clear on her face.

"It talks about you, and the new war museum their opening up down the road," he informed her. Fred groaned dramatically, flopping into the chair.

"You ruin all of my fun-"

"War Museum?" Antha repeated, her heart racing again. "What do you mean? When?"

"They're taking extra war donations and putting them towards a museum," George explained. "We were, uh... trying to keep it quiet until you started to get better, but Fred felt like you were good enough." No. There couldn't be a war museum. People would... For generations. And generations.

"You and Harry are guests of honor," Angelina said quietly from the other end of the table. "When it opens, you two are asked to give a speech and... plan your own personal exhibits. They're really going all out on this thing. The Order thinks it would be a good idea if you go along with it."

"No," Antha said immediately, her voice strong. "Absolutely not. I will not... broker off of this undeserved fame for... for generations, so people will forget what I've done."

"You'll have full control over what they put in your exhibit," George began, as if working to persuade her. Perhaps he was. "If you don't agree to be apart of it, they'll put whatever they want to in there... I think being involved will benefit you. Think of it as a chance to tell the public the real story."

"Well, the media can't shut up about it," Fred pointed out. "So it's a chance to tell your side, not just theirs."

"My side," Antha repeated slowly, as if it was a foreign concept. Her side of what happened. She could show people the truth - her bitterness, her coldness. What she had turned into - how selfish she had become.

"What you say happened, tell them what you really went through, not what they romantically think happened. You can donate a few artifacts, memories, things like that. I mean, they're still building it, so it won't be ready for a while, but... you seem to want to tell the public the truth. And the Order doesn't want that, but they do want you involved... so this is sort of appeasing both ends."

"The Order will be very mad," Antha said quietly, furrowing her brow as she glanced down at the book. "But the public can't ... can't excuse what I've done. Pardon or not, they need to know the truth- they need to know that I murdered their friends and family for the sake of my own. They need to recognize me on the street as the monster I am."

"You're not a monster," George promised. "You did what you could to survive."

She stared at the book, barely acknowledging him. "I'm a monster," she said quietly, her mind distant. She barely felt her fingers turn the pages in the book, until she got to 493. "I burned down everything, tainted everything and everyone I touched, killed and hurt people... monsters do that. I don't regret it. Monsters don't regret the harm they've caused." She found a sketch of her wedding photo, standing beside the Dark Lord. She looked so much brighter, even in the sketch.

Just this morning, when she glanced in the mirror, she had looked sickly, thin, pale. But the woman in the picture was healthy, strong, fierce. An entirely different person. She was the lion. Antha, now, was just a small cub, trembling and soaking wet, surrounded by the enemy pride. She was nothing compared to this woman that had been strong enough to sacrifice everything.

All Antha could fathom of doing now was running, not staying anywhere.

Her fingers trailed along the picture, occupying only a small section of the page. "I was someone great," she said quietly. "Someone beautiful and strong, a leader." She frowned. "Now I am a sitting duck, paranoid, mad, and pathetic."

"You're not-" George began.

"I am," she said fiercely, glancing to George. "You cannot convince me otherwise." Her gaze dropped back to the book and she glanced to the next page, seeing the sketch of her standing alone, in Hogwarts, with no one around her. Alone.

She was alone.

"We do need to talk about the inventory," George said suddenly, glancing away from Antha as if it hurt to look at her. As if he needed a distraction. Inventory? Antha did her best to make it seem as though she wasn't listening, instead attempting to read the book.

"Well, we were born with nothing, which is... just about what we have in the back room," Fred supplied. "What's in the store is all we've got left."

"How long will it take us to make more?"

"A month," Lee supplied. "But we'd have to shut down the shop by then, to put all hands on deck, as the Muggles say."

The shop couldn't shut down. "Shutting down will put us under," George argued. "Is there a way? Ron, and Harry, they'll help. We can get Hermione. Wood and Katie-"

"Ron will kill her as soon as he sees her," Fred pointed out, glancing towards Antha. Antha lowered her head further, hoping they couldn't see the pained expression on her face. She had ruined everything for them.

_"How many Fizzing Whizzbees?" George asked, glancing back to her._

_Antha glanced down at the list, her teeth gnawing at her lip. "Fourteen hundred. Doesn't that seem a bit much?"_

_"Of course it does. That's why we sell it for cheaper than Zonkos," George grinned. She felt herself giggle. She glanced around the store room, full to the brim of boxes. George was climbing the boxes, in an attempt to see what was on the top shelves of the numerous items. She didn't know where to start._

_"Isn't there a saying that it's bad to put all of your eggs in one basket?" she teased._

_"Oh, absolutely. That's why we did."_

_She snorted. "That makes no sense, you realize. There are Death Eaters everywhere out there. If they come here-"_

_"Then we'll have bigger problems than inventory," George shrugged. "Don't worry about that. We're tough cookies, remember?"_

_"Those are only Hagrid's cookies," Antha retorted. She glanced at the list. "There should be Pigmy Puff enclosures up there."_

_He grinned as he found them, jumping down. She felt her heart jump in her throat, but he was fine, coming towards her as he set an enclosure he grabbed down. He pulled the list from her hands, and a new kind of nervousness overcame her. It had to have been from the new paint fumes._

_"George?" Even her voice seemed unsteady._

_He was close to her, their bodies almost touching, and her skin felt electric where he was gripping her wrist. "Antha, I..."_

_His face was getting closer, they were nearly kissing, when she suddenly stiffened. The Dark Lord. Death Eaters. No. She couldn't. They would hurt him. He would be hurt for being more than friends with her. She couldn't let that happen. "This isn't a good idea, George," she said, shifting away._

_"I thought... I thought you wanted this-"_

_"Just now's not a good time," Antha insisted._

_He frowned but nodded. He stepped away from her and she felt like she had some air. Reaching for the list he had discarded, she heard him quip. "That time of the month, then?"_

_She laughed. "No! And even if it was, I wouldn't tell you." She would ruin him._

"Antha?" She glanced up sharply, seeing George staring at her with something akin to concern. "You alright?"

She nodded immediately. "Yes, I was just thinking."

There was silence and she realized the entire table was staring at her, as if she had said something. Had she? She didn't think so.

"You were mumbling to herself." Well, that answered that question. Mumbling never sounded good. "We'll work through everything, Antha. We'll be fine. The shop will be fine."

"Do you understand that we'll never be the same? Ever again?" Antha demanded, and the sudden fierce, anger was different. It was so sudden that she sucked in a breath in surprise. "Never. And it's because of me. We lost our trust and our friendship in the fire. And they're ash, and we're ash. And we'll never rise from them, George. I ruined everything."

"You saved me," George insisted. "You saved me, and because of it, you had to do those things." He was gripping her arms and she took a calming breath, before he released her, seemingly satisfied as she settled into the chair. "We'll reduce what we sell until we can bring it back up again," George said after a moment. "That way the shop won't go under and we can work on things that take more time. We'll ask who we can for help, see if they'll give it." He gave Antha a hard look. "You ruined nothing. I promise you that it wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, we fireproofed a lot of the show, just in case. All of the items, at least. It was how we were able to rebuild so quick," Fred said lightly. "But we're burning through inventory... er, bad word choice. We haven't had a chance to keep restocking. We just need to break for a while."

"You said closing the shop would put you under," Antha reminded them.

"So we reduce our hours. Close earlier, open later," Fred shrugged. "We can do that. We'd still get business. As long as we're open during lunch hours."

Antha glanced to the book, seeing she had paused on the page detailing the reconstruction of Hogwarts. "Everything will be fine," George promised. She had to beleive him. Everything would be, eventually.


	34. Ch 33: Final Farewell (ND)

**This is the original version and will be updated within the next few days with the updated version.**

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><p>I paid Fred fifteen galleons to watch Dellia for a few hours while I grocery shopped for the house. I learned this morning that I was cooking for him too, which I was fine with, I just didn't have any food to work with. I held Zar's hand as I walked out of WWW. I saw people look at me in surprise. This was the first time I had been in public since the war ended.<p>

"Let's go to the store right there," I told Zar with a small smile.

He nodded and I led him to a Muggle like shop that carried food and household items.

"'ello, lovely!" the shopkeeper smiled as I entered. "What can I do fer ye, Miss Riddle?"

"It's just Lestrange," I muttered. "I'm just here to stock up on food. I seem to have none."

"Of course!" the shopkeeper said. "I'm sorry fer the slip of the tongue, Miss Lestrange. Do ye need ta find anything in particular?"

"Just looking, thank you," I replied politely. "Zar, pick out some food you and Dellia might like, alright? I'm going to get some bread and milk and things."

Zar nodded and took off. I took a basket from the front door and started to fill it with bread, glasses of milk, meat, eggs, and noodles.

"Mummy, can I have this?" Zar asked. I looked down and saw he had Muggle cereal in his hands.

"Sure," I smiled, taking it. "Find some good fruits too, though, okay?"

"Yup, Mum," he smiled and walked off. I shook my head, smiling, before turning back and grabbing some seasonings and sauces, vegetables as well.

"I didn't know ye 'ad a son," The shopkeeper said.

And I didn't know you were a nosey good for nothing, I thought. "Yeah," I swallowed. "I do. That's Zar."

"Who's the father?" the keeper asked.

I shook my head, "No one important."

"Now I find that 'ard to believe, lovely."

"Zar, we're leaving," I said quietly as he approached me with a crate of blueberries. "This is it for today, I believe."

"Who's yer father, little boy?" the shopkeeper asked. I squeezed Zar's hand tightly, signalling him not to answer.

"Mummy told me not to talk to strangers," Zar said quietly.

"I'm not a stranger if we're properly introduced," The shopkeeper insisted. "Me name's Mike. Mike Harlot."

I cleared my throat, "I'd appreciate it if you stopped. I have to get back to the Order in a few minutes, or they'll come looking for me. If you'll please ring up my items and I'll be on my way."

He wrote out how much all my items would cost, but kept talking. "I don't think a beauty like ye should be cooking fer 'erself. A single mother like ye must be 'aving a 'ard life. Ye can cook fer me."

"I'm sorry," I shook my head, trying to keep my temper under control. Who knows who's trying to get me snap so that I will be sent to Azkaban in a heart beat. "I already have a boyfriend and I cook for him."

"Shame, lovely, I could fink of many ways fer ye to use those 'ands."

"What's my total?" I sighed impatiently.

"A couple of kisses, fer ye. Or, if ye prefer to go the noble route, fourteen galleons."

I knew that was way too high, but I didn't question him and I passed him the galleons. "Thank you," I said quietly, taking the bag full of my items and turning. I was three feet from the door when I felt something tweak my butt. I spun, narrowing my eyes at the shopkeeper, Mike, who was harmlessly giving me a grin – a full view of his rotten teeth – and waving his wand.

I took a deep breath, not letting my temper get to me. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't try that again."

I held Zar tighter to me and was about to get to the door when someone grabbed my arm. "I said not to try-"

"You shouldn't take that crap from him," a young man said to me in a low voice. "He does that to all the ladies that come in here. They all file a complaint but no one ever listens."

I pulled my arm from his grip, not recognizing him, therefore not trusting him. "Thank you for the warning."

"I'm serious, Miss Lestrange. He'll follow you home if he has to."

I swallowed, my eyes flicking to the Mike bloke before turning back to this man. "I have Order protection until my name is cleared for my crimes. Otherwise I could stay in Azkaban. I didn't catch your name."

"Romeo Prewett," he answered. "Just came from Italy a few days ago." That explained the tan. His blue eyes met mine and he shrugged.

"Welcome," I said politely. "I must go." My eyes flickered to Mike again.

"You know, I don't think you deserve to be punished for what you did," He said before I could walk away. "You don't look like someone that would kill a person."

"You wouldn't be saying that if you met me a few days ago," I muttered. "Pleasure meeting you."

I walked out of the store and hurried to Weasley Wizard Wheezes.

"Mummy, why was that man being nasty to you?" Zar asked.

"He's just drunk, dear," I answered.

"But Daddy was drunk loads of times and he never said that to you!" Zar said.

"Everyone's just different when they're drunk," I insisted.

"But! Daddy always pulled you into his bedroom when he was drunk. So he could sleep off the alco. . .alca. . ." He struggled, then decided to just forget the word. "But that guy wanted you to cook for him." Oh he's so innocent. I love children.

I gave a small smile, "That's just the way he is. Now, I believe that lunch is soon. I can hear your stomach roaring . . . from. . ." I faltered when I saw who was at the front of the store, arms crossed, watching me. "Father."

"The Order granted me five minutes to talk to you," my father, Rodolphus Lestrange, spoke in his usual harsh voice. Zar clung to my leg, shrinking back a little.

"Then speak," I snapped, setting the groceries on the counter by the register and crossing my arms.


	35. Ch 34: Haunting in the Alleys (ND)

**This is the original version and will be updated within the next few days with the updated version.**

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><p>"The dark side will rise once again, and for your treachery against our lord, I will personally ensure that you will die at the new lord's hands."<p>

"There will be no new lord," I said calmly. "Tom was the last and every one knows that if there's another, the Order will personally take them out. In fact, I might offer to do the job myself."

"With what?" my father asked, laughing. "You're flippy hair and curves." The way he said that unnerved me.

"You'd be surprised what it takes to take down a Dark Lord. Tom was no different. My looks was all he needed to do as I pleased," I shrugged.

"He treated you better than that," My father spat.

"But you didn't," I countered. "Maybe, if you would have treated me like a daughter instead of something you didn't want because I wasn't a male heir, then I would have stayed on your side. Did you ever think of that? But because of the years of torture I received from you, I escaped. And I know which side is the rightful winner."

"Ours."

"Mine," I growled. "Go back to Azkaban, father, and we'll talk after your life sentence is over."

His lip curled, "Daughter of mine, you honored our family by marrying him. But yet, you still keep up the act. Don't you remember your first year as a Death Eater? The adrennaline rush. The thrill. You loved it, and we all could tell."

"Who's we?" I snapped as he stepped closer.

"Why, your mother, the Dark Lord, and I of course. Such a shame that this little brat ruined everything." His eyes darted to Zar and as he began to raise his hand to smack him, I grabbed the wrist and forced him to the ground.

"My son is not a brat," I said harshly. "My son is your grandchild. Hence, your heir, you stupid, inconsiderate fool. My son is the Dark Lord's as well. So in saying that you disrespect our Lord. And in saying that, you disrespect me, your Lady."

I stood up, taking Zar's hand. I met George's eyes, who had appeared among the near empty shelves and was watching along with a few Aurors to escort him back.

"Five minutes is up, father," I said sweetly.

"You still love it!" My father shouted as the Aurors kept it up. "You called him 'Our Lord'! You still worship him! You love him!"

I glared at him the entire time he talked, desperately wishing I had a wand.

"Make no mistake when I say that you are still on our side," My father shouted as they dragged him from the vacinity of me, his legs scraping against the floor. "You fucked him willingly! I could hear you screaming his name from the other side of the manor! You loved it and you love him."

I flashed, "You are delusional," I ground out. My heart was beating fast, my hand that wasn't holding Zar's was clenched, and I could feel my face heating up in a blush. I didn't exactly express these details.

"For once in your life, Antha, be honest," my father said calmly, spitting every word. "Are you on the Order side?"

"No." George sucked in a breath and the Aurors froze.

"Are you on my side?" he asked, smiling viciously.

"No," I smirked.

His eyes widened, "But-I demand that you answer, Philantha! Which side are you on?"

"None, because the war is over," I smirked. "There are no sides anymore." He flung himself from the Auror's grasp, causing them to fumble for their wands. But I was ready. I could read the signs.

"This is for when I was fifteen," I murmured, kneeing him in the groin. I felt Zar back up a few steps. "And this is for when I was sixteen!" I punched him swiftly in the nose, satisfied at the crack. "And this is for when Mum tortured me and you did nothing to stop her!"

He sailed to the floor at the punch to the stomach. I crouched down, yet again proud I got him to the floor. "And this was all about magic," I whispered to him. "Seems the Muggles have some advantage, huh, Daddy?" I was going to stand up but stopped and leaned down to whisper in his ear, "And I did love Tom. I've never denied it."

"You dare call him by that name!"

"That's his Christian name and he insisted upon me calling him it," I said calmly, winking.

"How does your little brat feel about his father being dead?" Rodolphus spat.

"D-Dead?" Zar whimpered.

I spun around quickly, my anger forgotten, "Honey, I-"

"Mummy, is Daddy really-? Is Daddy dead?"

"Oh, sweetie," I took a step towards him, only for him to take one back. He was scared of me. My heart constricted painfully and I saw him flick his eyes to George, who was looking at the floor. "Honey, Daddy-"

His lip trembled and he flew up the stairs. "Zar!" I called after him, my hand reaching for him. I gave up when I heard his door slam. I founded on my father. "And this is for that," I spat. I drove my heel into his side and took off up the stairs. I found Fred, looking rather confused, and holding a crying Dellia.

"Put her in her crib," I ordered. I knocked on Zar's door. "Zar! Honey, please open up! Baby, talk to me."

"What happened?" Fred asked.

"Run in with my father," I said quietly. "He told Zar about. . . his father's fate."

Fred winced, "That's why he was ready to blow the house down with a huff and a puff."

I shook my head and knocked on Zar's door. "Honey, please, I was going to tell you. When you were older so you could understand the full situation."

Something crashed in his room and I tried the door, but it was locked. "Salazar, please open up! Can I please talk to you?"

"You lied!" he cried, his fists pouding the door. I knelt down so my head would be level with his. "You said lying was bad! You said Daddy would get better!"

"I know, honey, and I'm sorry," I said through the door. "I didn't want you to cry. I wanted you to be happy and live normally. Deep down, sweetheart, I knew that I would have to tell you soon. I just didn't want you to find out this way."

I could hear a sniffle, "Daddy won't come back? He's with James and Cousin Sirius?"

"Yes, he is."

"Uncle Remus too?"

"Yes, sweetie. Uncle Remus, too."

"Did Daddy kill Uncle Remus?"

I was silent for a moment, before replying, "Yes, he did."

"But what about Sirius? Did he do that to Cousin Sirius?"

"No, that wasn't Daddy." Sirius was his favorite person in the world. Zar loved him dearly. "That was Grandma Trix."

He sniffled yet again and then it was silent on his end. I maintained the silence for a few more minutes before speaking, "Salazar?"

"Leave me alone," he muttered. "I hate you."

I sighed, my heart breaking. "I still love you, Zar. I'll be here until you get hungry."

He didn't answer. I sank down to the ground, leaning against the wall next to the door. He hates me. He hates me. My own child hates me. I rested my head against the wall and lulled to sleep at the sound of the clock's ticks just from the living room, a little ways down the hall.


End file.
